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With IllustraHom from Photographs 
by the Author 




ritkli rii4rvtd 




With Ilbtttrations from Photographs 
fy the Author 





Ail ritkl, rtitrvtd 




ma Ilbislratioru from Photographs 
by the Author 





All rigkU rturvd 




Printed by Ballanttne, Hansom &» Co. 
At the Ballantyne PresB 


From its simple natiire, this book seems scarcely to 
need any prefiAtory remarks, with the exception only 
of certain acknowledgments. 

A portion of the contents (about one-third) ap- 
peared during the years 1896 and 1897 in the pages 
of the Chmrdiomy as "Notes from Ghtrden and Wood- 
land." I am indebted to the courtesy of the editor 
and proprietors of that journal for permission to 
republish these notes. 

The greater part of the photographs from which 
the illustrations have been prepared were done on my 
own ground — a space of some fifteen acres. Some of 
them, owing to my want of technical ability as a photo- 
grapher, were very weak, and have only been rendered 
available by the skill of the reproducer, for whose 
careful work my thanks are due. 

A small number of the photographs were done for 
reproduction in wood-engravmg for Mr. Robinson's 
Oarderij Oardenifig lUustraUd, and English Flower Oarden. 
I have his kind permission to use the original plates. 

G. J. 







Beantj of woodland in winter — The nut-walk — Thinning 
the OTergrowth — A nnt narserj — Iri$ ttylosa — Its cnltnre — Its 
home in Algeria — Discovery of the white variety — Flowers 
and branches for indoor decoration. 


Distant promise of summer — Ivy-berries — Colonred leaves 
— Berberii AquifoUwn — Its many merits — ^Thinning and pron- 
ing shrubs — Lilacs — Removing Suckers — ^Training Clematii 
Jhmmula — Forms of trees — Juniper, a neglected native ever- 
green — Bffect of snow — Power of recovery — ^Beauty of colour 
— Moss-grown stems. 

MARCH 32-^ 

Flowering bulbs— Dog-tooth Violet—Rock-garden — Variety 
of Rhododendron foliage — A beautiful old kind — Suckers on 
grafted plants — Plants for filling up the beds — Heaths — An- 
dromedas — Lady Fern — Lilium auraUum — Pruning Roses — 
Training and tying climbing plants — Climbing and free-grow- 
ing Roses — The Vine the best wall-covering — Other climbers 

—Wild Clematis— Wild Rose. 





APRIL 46-68 

Woodland spring flowers — Daffodils in the copse — Grape 
Hyacinths and other spring bulbs — How best to plant them — 
Flowering shmbs — Bock-plants — Sweet scents of April — 
Snowy Mespilos, Marsh Marigolds, and other spring flowers — 
Primrose garden — ^Pollen of Scotch Fir — Opening seed-pods of 
Fir and Gorse — Anricnlas — Tulips — Small shrabs for rock- 
garden—Daffodils as cut flowers — Lent Hellebores — Primroses 
— Leaves of wild Arum. 


MAY 59-76 

Cowslipfih-Morells— Woodruff— Felling oak timber— Tril- 
11am and other wood-plants — Lily of the Valley naturalised — 
Bock-wall flowers — Two good wall-shmbs — Queen wasps — 
Bhododendrons — Arrangement for colour — Separate colour- 
groups — Difficulty of choosing — Hardy Azaleas—Grouping 
flowers that bloom together — Guelder-rose as climber — The 
garden-wall door — The Pseony garden — Moutans — Pttony 
yarleties — Species desirable for garden. 


JUNE 77-^ 

The gladness of June — The time of Boses — Garden Boses 
— Beine Blanche— The old white Rose — Old garden Boses as 
standards— Climbing and rambling Boses— Scotch Briars — 
Hybrid Perpetuals a difficulty — Tea Boses — Pruning — Sweet 
Peas autumn sown — Blder-trees — Virginian Cowslip — Divid- 
ing spring-blooming plants — Two best Mulleins — White French 
Willow— Bracken. 


JULY 89-99 

Scarcity of flowers- Delphiniums — Yuccas — ^Cottager's 
way of protecting tender plants — Alstrdmerias — Carnations — 
Gypsophila — LUium giffarUeum — Cutting fern-pegs. 




AUGUST 100-111 

Lejcesteiia — Earlj recollections— Bank of choice shrubs 
— Bank of Briar Roses — HoUjhocks — Lavender — Lilies — 
Bracken and Heaths— The Fern-walk — Late-blooming rock- 
plants — Aatamn flowers — Tea Roses — Fmit of Roaa rugom — 
Fangi — Ghantarelle. 


SEPTEMBER 112-124 

Sowing Sweet Peas — Antomn-sown aanaals — Dahlias — 
Worthless kinds — Staking— Planting the rock-garden — Grow- 
ing small plants in a wall — The old wall— Dry-walling — How 
built — How planted — Hyssop— A destmctive storm — ^Berries 
of Water-elder — Beginning gronnd-work. 


OCTOBER 125-143 

Michaelmas Daisies — ^Arranging and staking — Spindle-tree 
— Autumn colour of Agaleas — Quinces — ^Medlars — Advantage 
of early planting of shrubs — Careful planting — Pot-bound 
roots — Cypress hedge — Planting in difficult places — Hardy 
flower border — Lifting Dahlias — Dividing hardy plants — 
Dividing tools — Plants difficult to divide — Periwinkles — 
Stembergia — Czar Violets — Deep cultivation for LUium 

NOVEMBER 144-157 

Giant Christmas Rose — Hardy Chrysanthemums— Shelter- 
ingtender shrubs— Turfing by inoculation — Transplanting large 
trees — Sir Henry Steuart*s experience early in the century — 
Collecting fallen leaves — Preparing grubbing tools — Butcher's 
Broom — Alexandrian Laurel — Hollies and Birches — ^A lesson 
in planting. 



APBIL 46-58 

Woodland spring flowers — Daffodils in the copse — Grape 
Hyacinths and other spring bulbs — How best to plant them — 
Flowering shrabs — Bock-plants — Sweet scents of April — 
Snowy MespUns, Marsh MaiigoldB, and other spring flowers — 
Primrose garden — Pollen of Scotch Fir — Opening seed-pods of 
Fir and Grorse — ^Aoriccdas — Tulips — Small shrubs for rock- 
garden — Daffodils as cut flowers — Lent Hellebores — ^Primroses 
— Leaves of wild Arum. 


MAY 5^76 

Cowslips— Morells— Woodruff— Felling oak timber— Tril- 
lium and other wood-plants — Lily of the Valley naturalised — 
Bock-wall flowers — Two good wall-shrubs — Queen wasps — 
Bhododendrons — Arrangement for colour — Separate colour- 
groups — Difficulty of choosing — Hardy Azaleas — Grouping 
flowers that bloom together — Guelder-rose as climber — The 
garden- wall door — The Pseony garden — Moutans — Pseony 
yarieties — Species desirable for garden. 


JUNE 77-^ 

The gladness of June — The time of Boses — Garden Boses 
— Beine Blanche— The old white Rose — Old garden Boses as 
standards— Climbing and rambling Boses — Scotch Briars — 
Hybrid Perpetuals a difficulty — ^Tea Boses — Pruning — Sweet 
Peas autumn sown — Elder-trees — Virginian Cowslip — Divid- 
ing spring-blooming plants — Two best Mulleins — ^White French 
Willow — Bracken. 


JULY 8d-89 

Scarcity of flowers — Delphiniums — Yuccas — Cottager's 
way of protecting tender plants — Alstr6merias — Carnations — 
Gypsophila — LUium giganUum — ^Cutting fern-pegs. 




AUGUST 100-111 

Leycesteria — Barlj recollections— Bank of choice shrubs 
— Bank of Briar Roses — HoUjhocks — Lavender — Lilies — 
Bracken and Heaths—The Fern-walk — Late-blooming rock- 
plants — Antamn flowers — Tea Roses — Fmit of Roaa rugom — 
Fungi — Chantarelle. 


SEPTEMBER 112-124 

Sowing Sweet Peas — Aotomn-sown annuals — Dahlias — 
Worthless kinds — Staking — Planting the rock-garden — Grow- 
ing small plants in a wall — ^The old wall — Dry-walling — How 
built — How planted — Hyssop— A destructive storm — Berries 
of Water-elder — Beginning ground-work. 


OCTOBER 126-148 

Michaelmas Daisies — Arranging and staking — Spindle-tree 
— Autumn colour of Am^Iimia — Quinces — Medlars — Advantage 
of early planting of shrubs — Careful planting — Pot-bound 
roots — Cypress hedge — Planting in difficult places — Hardy 
flower border — Lifting Dahlias — Dividing hardy plants — 
Dividing tools — Plants difficult to divide — Periwinkles — 
Stembergia — Czar Violets — Deep cultivation for LUium 

NOVEMBER 144-157 

Oiant Christmas Rose — Hardy Chrysanthemums— Shelter- 
ingtender shrubs- Turfing by inoculation — Transplanting large 
trees — Sir Henry Steuart*s experience early in the century — 
Collecting fallen leaves — Preparing grubbing tools — Butcher's 
Broom — Alexandrian Laurel — Hollies and Birches — ^A lesson 
in planting. 




DECEMBER 158-170 

The woodman at work — Tree-cutting in froetj weather — 
Preparing sticks and stakes — Winter Jasmine — ^Fems in the 
wood-walk — Winter colour of evergreen shrubs — Ck>pse-outting 
— Hoop-making — ^tools used — Sizes of hoops — Men camping 
out — Thatching with hoop-chips — The old thatcher's bill. 



A well done villa-garden— A small town-garden — Two de- 
lightful gardens of small size — Twenty acres within the walls 
— A large country house and its garden — Terrace — Lawn — 
Fftrterre — Free garden— Kitchen garden — Buildings — Orna- 
mental orchard — Instructive mixed gardens — Mr. Wilson's at 
Wisley — A window garden. 



The ignorant questioner — ^Beginning at the end — An ex- 
ample — Personal experience— Absence of outer help — Johns' 
** Flowers of the Field" — Collecting plants — Nurseries near 
London — ^Wheel-spokes as labels — Garden friends — Mr. Robin- 
son's "English Flower-Garden "—Mr. Nicholson's ** Dictionary 
of Gardening" — One main idea desirable— Pictorial treatment 
— Training in fine art — Adapting from Nature — Study of 
colour — Ignorant use of the word *' artistic.' 




The flower-border — The wall and its occupants — Choitya 
temcUa — Nandina — Oanon EUacombe's garden— Treatment of 
colour-masses — Arrangement of plants in the border — Dahlias 
and Cannas — Covering bare places — The Pergola — How made 
— Suitable climbers — Arbours of trained Planes — Garden 












INDEX 280 


Fbontibfiecb face title 

A Wild Junifbb faeepage 19 

Scotch Fibs thrown on to Fbozbn Water bt 

Snowstorm ,, 27 

Old Juniper, showing former Injuries . . „ 29 

Juniper, lately wrecked bt Snowstorm . . „ 29 
Garden Door-wat wreathed with Clematis 

Gratbolens „ 39 

Cottage Porch wreathed with the Dottble 

White Rose (B. alba) „ 39 

Wild Hop, entwining Wormwood and Cow- 
Parsnip „ 43 

Daffodils in the Copse „ 43 

Magnolia stellata „ 50 

Daffodils among Junipers where Garden 

JOINS Copse „ 51 


Hollthoce, Pink Beautt. (See page 105} . . „ 53 

TuLiPA Retroflbxa „ 55 

Late single Tulips, Breeders and Byblcbmen „ 55 

Tbillium in the Wild Gabden .... „ 61 


Rhododendrons whbbb the Copsb and Qaeden 

MEET face page 66 

Grabs Walks through the Copse ... „ 66 

Rhododendrons at the Edge of the Ck)FSE „ 68 

South side of door, with Clematis Montana 

AND Choista „ 72 

North side of the same door, with Clematis 

Montana and Gubldbr-Rose ... „ 72 

Free Cluster-Rose as standard in a Cottage 

Garden „ 77 

Double White Scotch Briar .... „ 81 

Part of a Bush of Rosa Poltantha „ 82 

Garland - Rose showing Natural Wat of 

Growth . . ^ „ 82 

Lilac Marie Legrate. {See page 23) . . . „ 84 
Flowering Elder and Path from Garden to 

Copse • . . . „ 84 

The Giant Lilt „ 96 

cistus florentinus ,,101 

The Great Asphodel ,,101 

Lavender Hedge and Steps to the Loft . „ 105 

HoLLTHOCK, Pink Beautt „ 106 

Solomon's Sbal in Spring, in the upper part 

OF THE Fern-walk „ 107 

The Fern-walk in August ,,107 

Jack. (Seepage!^) „ 117 

The "Old Wall" ,,117 

Erinus Alpinus, clothing Steps in Rock-Wall „ 121 

Borders of Michaelmas Daisies ... ,,126 


Pens fob Storing Dead Lbaves .... /ace 'page 150 
Cabbful Wild-Gabdsning — White Foxglovi&s 

AT THE Edge of the Fir Wood. {See page 

270) ,,150 

HoLLT Stems in an Old Hedge-Row ... „ 15Sf 

Wild Junifbbs „ 154 

Wild Junipbbb „ 156 

The Woodman „ 158 

Gbubbing a Tbee-btump ,,161 

Felling and Gbubbing Tools. (See page 150) . „ 161 

Hoop-making in the Woods .... „ 167 

Hoop-shaving „ 169 

Shed-roof, thatched with Hoop-chip „ 169 
Garland-Rose wreathing the end of a Tbb- 

BACE Wall ,,178 

A Roadside Cottage Gabden .... ,,185 

A Floweb-bordeb in June ,, 200 

Pathwat acboss the South Bobdeb in 

July ,,202 

Outside View of the Bbick Pebgola shown 

AT Page 214, afteb Six Yeabs' Gbowth . „ 202 
End of Floweb-bobdeb and Entbance of 

Pebgola „ 210 

South Bobdeb Doob and Yuccas in August „ 210 
Stone -Built Pebgola with Wbought Oak 

Beams „ 214 

Pebgola with Bbick Pibbs and Beams of 

Bough Oak „ 214 

Evening in the Pbimbosb Gabden ... „ 217 


Tall Snapdragons Growing in a Dry 

Wall face page 261 

Mulleins Growing in the Face of Dry Wall. 

{See •< Old WaU," page 116) .... ,,261 

Gbraniuhs in Neapolitan Pots .... „ 267 

Space in Step and Tank-garden for Lilies, 

Cannab, and Geraniums .... „ 268 

Hydrangeas in Tubs, in a part of the same 

Garden ,,268 

Mullein (Verbabcum phlomoides) at the Edge 

OF THE Fir Wood „ 270 

A Grass Path in the Copse .... „ 270 




There are already many and excellent books about 
gardening ; but the love of a garden, already so deeply 
implanted in the English heart, is so rapidly growings 
that no excuse is needed for putting forth another. 

I lay no claim either to literary ability, or to 
botanical knowledge, or even to knowing the best 
practical methods of cultivation; but I have lived 
among outdoor flowers for many years, and have not 
spared myself in the way of actual labour, and have 
come to be on closely intimate and friendly terms 
with a great many growing things, and have acquired 
certain instincts which, though not clearly defined, 
are of the nature of useful knowledge. 

But the lesson I have thoroughly leamt, and wish 
to pass on to others, is to know the enduring happiness 
that the love of a garden gives. I rejoice when I see 
any one, and especially children, inquiring about flowers, 
and wanting gardens of their own, and carefully working 


in them. For the love of gardening is a seed that 
once sown never dies, but always grows and grows to 
an enduring and ever-increasing source of happiness. 

If in the foUowing chapters I have laid special stress 
upon gardening for beautiful effect, it is because it is 
the way of gardening that I love best, and understand 
most of, and that seems to me capable of giving the 
greatest amount of pleasure. I am strongly for treating 
garden and wooded ground in a pictorial way, mainly 
with large effects, and in the second place with lesser 
beautiful incidents, and for so arranging plants and 
trees and grassy spaces that they look happy and at 
home, and make no parade of conscious effort. I try 
for beauty and harmony everywhere, and especially for 
harmony of colour. A garden so treated gives the 
delightful feeling of repose, and refreshment, and purest 
enjoyment of beauty, that seems to my understanding 
to be the best fulfilment of its purpose ; while to its 
diligent worker its happiness is like the offering of a 
constant hymn of praise. For I hold that the best 
purpose of a garden is to give delight and to give re- 
freshment of mind, to soothe, to refine, and to lift up 
the heart in a spirit of praise and thankfulness. It is 
certain that those who practise gardening in the best 
ways find it to be so. 

But the scope of practical gardening covers a range 
of horticultural practice wide enough to give play to 
every variety of himian taste. Some find their greatest 
pleasure in collecting as large a niunber as possible of 


all sorts of plants from all sources, others in collecting 
them themselves in their foreign homes, others in making 
rock-gardens, or ferneries, or peat-gardens, or bog-gardens, 
or gardens for conifers or for flowering shrubs, or special 
gardens of plants and trees with variegated or coloured 
leaves, or in the cultivation of some particular race or 
family of plants. Others may best like wide lawns with 
large trees, or wild gardening, or a quite formal garden, 
with trim hedge and walk, and terrace, and brilliant 
parterre, or a combination of several ways of gardening. 
And all are right and reasonable and enjoyable to 
their owners, and in some way or degree helpful to 

The way that seems to me most desirable is again 
different, and I have made an attempt to describe it 
in some of its aspects But I have learned much, and 
am always learning, from other people's gardens, and 
the lesson I have learned most thoroughly is, never 
to say "I know" — there is so infinitely much to 
learn, and the conditions of different gardens vary so 
greatly, even when soil and situation appear to be 
alike and they are in the same district. Nature is 
such a subtle chemist that one never knows what 
she is about, or what surprises she may have in store 
for us. 

Often one sees in the gardening papers discussions 
about the treatment of some particular plant. One 
man writes to say it can only be done one way, 
another to say it can only be done quite some other 


way, and the discussion waxes hot and almost angry, 
and the puzzled reader, perhaps as yet young in gar- 
dening, cannot tell what to make of it. And yet the 
two writers are both able gardeners, and both absolutely 
trustworthy, only they should have said, " In my experi- 
ence in, tJm place such a plant can only be done in 
such a way." Even plants of the same family will not 
do equally well in the same garden. Every practical 
gardener knows this in the case of strawberries and 
potatoes; he has to find out which kinds will do in 
his garden ; the experience of his friend in the next 
coimty is probably of no use whatever. 

I have learnt much from the little cottage gardens 
that help to make our English waysides the prettiest 
in the temperate world. One can hardly go into the 
smallest cottage garden without learning or observing 
something new. It may be some two plants growing 
beautifully together by some happy chance, or a pretty 
mixed tangle of creepers, or something that one always 
thought must have a south wall doing better on an east 
one. But eye and brain must be alert to receive the 
impression and studious to store it, to add to the 
hoard of experience. And it is important to train 
oneself to have a good flower-eye; to be able to see 
at a glance what flowers are good and which are un- 
worthy, and why, and to keep an open mind about it ; 
not to be swayed by the petty tyrannies of the " florist" 
or show judge ; for, though some part of his judgment 
may be sound, he is himself a slave to rules, and must 


go by points which are defined arbitrarily and rigidly, 
and have reference mainly to the show-table, leaving 
out of account, as if unworthy of consideration, such 
matters as gardens and garden beauty, and htmian 
delight, and simshine, and varying lights of morning 
and evening and noonday. But many, both nursery- 
men and private people, devote themselves to growing 
and improving the best classes of hardy flowers, and 
we can hardly offer them too much grateful praise, or 
do them too much honour. For what would our gar- 
dens be without the Roses, Fseonies, and Gladiolus of 
France, and the Tulips and Hyacinths of Holland, to 
say nothing of the hosts of good things raised by our 
home growers, and of the enterprise of the great firms 
whose agents are always searching the world for garden 
treasures ? 

Let no one be discouraged by the thought of how 
much there is to learn. Looking back upon nearly 
thirty years of gardening (the earlier part of it in 
groping ignorance with scant means of help), I can 
remember no part of it that was not full of pleasure 
and encouragement. For the first steps are steps into 
a delightful Unknown, the first successes are victories 
all the happier for being scarcely expected, and with 
the growing knowledge comes the widening outlook, 
and the comforting sense of an ever-increasing gain of 
critical appreciation. Each new step becomes a little 
surer, and each new grasp a little finner, till, little by 
little, comes the power of intelligent combination, the 


nearest thing we can know to the mighty force of 

And a garden is a grand teacher. It teaches 
patience and careful watchfidness ; it teaches industry 
and thrift; above all, it teaches entire trust. ''Paul 
planteth and ApoUos watereth, but God giveth the in- 
crease." The good gardener knows with absolute 
certainty that if he does his part, if he gives the 
labour, the love, and every aid that his knowledge of 
his craft, experience of the conditions of his place, and 
exercise of his personal wit can work together to sug- 
gest, that so surely as he does this diligently and 
faithfully, so surely will Grod give the increase. Then 
with the honestly-earned success comes the conscious- 
ness of encouragement to renewed effort, and, as it 
were, an echo of the gracious words, " Well done, good 
and faithful servant." 



Beauty of woodland in winter — The nut- walk — Thinning the over- 
growth — A nut nursery — Iris stylosa — Its culture — Its home in 
Algeria — Discovery of the white variety — Flowers and branches 
for indoor decoration. 

A HARD frost is upon us. The thermometer registered 
eighteen degrees last night, and though there was only 
one frosty night next before it, the groimd is hard 
frozen. Till now a press of other work has stood in the 
way of preparing protecting stuff for tender shrubs, but 
now I go up into the copse with a man and chopping 
tools to cut out some of the Scotch fir that are 
beginning to crowd each other. 

How endlessly beautiful is woodland in winter! 
To-day there is a thin mist; just enough to make 
a background of tender blue mystery three himdred 
yards away, and to show any defect in the grouping 
of near trees. No day could be better for deciding 
which trees are to come down ; there is not too much 
at a time within sight ; just one good picture-full and 
no more. On a clear day the eye and mind are dis- 
tracted by seeing away into too many planes, and it is 



much more difficult to decide what is desirable in the 
way of broad treatment of nearer objects. 

The ground has a warm carpet of pale rusty fern ; 
tree-stem and branch and twig show tender coloiur- 
harmonies of grey bark and sUver-grey lichen, only 

Now the splendid richness of the common holly is 
more than ever impressive, with its soUd masses of 
fiill, deep colour, and its wholesome look of perfect 
health and vigour. Sombrely cheerful, if one may 
use such a mixture of terms ; sombre by reason of the 
extreme depth of tone, and yet cheerful from the look 
of glad life, and from the assurance of warm shelter 
and protecting comfort to bird and beast and neigh- 
bouring vegetation. The picture is made complete 
by the slender shafts of the silver-barked birches, with 
their half-weeping heads of delicate, warm-coloured 
spray. Has any tree so graceftil a way of throwing 
up its stems as the birch? They seem to leap and 
spring into the air, often leaning and curving upward 
from the very root, sometimes in forms that would 
be almost grotesque were it not for the never-failing 
rightness of free-swinging poise and perfect balance. 
The tints of the stem give a precious lesson in colour. 
The white of the bark is here silvery-white and there 
milk-white, and sometimes shows the faintest tinge of 
rosy flush. Where the bark has not yet peeled, the 
stem is clouded and banded with delicate grey, and 
with the silver-green of lichen. For about two feet 


upward from the ground, in the case of young trees 
of about seven to nine inches diameter, the bark is 
dark in colour, and lies in thick and extremely rugged 
upright ridges, contrasting strongly with the smooth 
white skin above. Where the two join, the smooth 
bark is parted in upright slashes, through which the 
dark, rough bark seems to swell up, reminding one 
forcibly of some of the old fifteenth- century German 
costumes, where a dark velvet is arranged to rise in 
crompled folds through slashings in white satin. In 
the stems of older birches the rough bark rises much 
higher up the trunk and becomes clothed with deUcate 
grey-green lichen. 

The nut-walk was planted twelve years ago. There 
are two rows each side, one row four feet behiad the 
other, and the nuts are ten feet apart in the rows. 
They are planted zigzag, those in the back rows show- 
ing between the front ones. As the two ianer rows 
are thirteen feet apart measuring across the path, it 
leaves a shady border on each side, with deeper bays 
between the nearer trees. Lent Hellebores fill one 
border from end to end; the other is planted with 
the Corsican and the native kinds, so that throughout 
February and March there is a complete bit of garden 
of one kind of plant in fiill beauty of flower and 

The nut-trees have grown into such thick clumps 
that now there must be a vigorous thinning. Each 
stool has from eight to twelve main stems, the largest 


of them nearly two inches thick. Some shoot almost 
upright, but two or three in each stool spread outward, 
with quite a different habit of growth, branching about 
in an angular fashion. These are the oldest and 
thickest. There are also a number of straight suckers 
one and two years old. Now when I look at some 
fine old nut alley, with the tops arching and meeting 
overhead, as I hope mine will do in a few years, I see 
that the trees have only a few stems, usually from 
three to five at the most, and I judge that now is the 
time to thin mine to about the right number, so that 
the strength and growing power may be thrown 
into these, and not allowed to dilute and waste itself in 
growing extra faggoting. The first to be cut away 
are the old crooked stems. They grow nearly hori- 
zontally and are all elbows, and often so tightly locked 
into the straighter rods that they have to be chopped 
to pieces before they can be pulled out When these 
are gone it is easier to get at the other stems, though 
they are often so close together at the base that it is 
difficult to chop or saw them out without hurting the 
bark of the ones to be left. All the young suckers are 
cut away. They are of straight, clean growth, and we 
prize them as the best possible sticks for Chrysanthe- 
mums and potted Lilies. 

After this bold thinning, instead of dense thickety 
bushes we have a few strong, well-branched rods to 
each stool. At first the nut-walk looks wofully naked, 
and for the time its pictorial value is certainly lessened ; 


but it has to be done, and when summer side-twigs 
have grown and leafed, it will be fairly well clothed, 
and meanwhile the Hellebores will be the better for 
the thinner shade. 

The nut-catkins are already an inch long, but are 
tightly closed, and there is no sign as yet of the bright 
crimson little sea-anemones that will appear next 
month and will duly grow into nut-bearing twigs. 
Round the edges of the base of the stools are here and 
there little branching suckers. These are the ones to 
look out for, to pull off and grow into young trees. A 
firm grasp and a sharp tug brings them up with a fine 
supply of good fibrous root. After two years in the 
nursery they are just right to plant out. 

The trees in the nut-walk were grown in this way 
fourteen years ago, from small suckers pulled off plants 
that came originally from the interesting cob-nut 
nursery at Calcot, near Reading. 

I shall never forget a visit to that nursery some six- 
and-twenty years ago. It was walled . all round, and a 
deep-sounding bell had to be rung many times before 
any one came to open the gate; but at last it was 
opened by a fine, strongly-built, sunburnt woman of the 
type of the good working farmer's wife, that I remem- 
ber as a child. She was the forewoman, who worked 
the nursery with surprisingly few hands — only three 
men, if I remember rightly — but she looked as if she 
could do the work of " all two men " herself. One of 
the specialties of the place was a fine breed of mastiffs I 


another was aa old Black Hamburg vine, that rambled 
and clambered in and out of some very old green- 
houses, and was wonderfully productive. There were 
alleys of nuts in all directions, and large spreading 
patches of palest yellow Daffodils — the double Nwr- 
dsms cemuuSj now so scarce and difficult to grow. Had 
I then known how precious a thing was there in fair 
abundance, I should not have been contented with the 
modest dozen that I asked for. It was a most plea- 
sant garden to wander in, especially with the old Mr. 
Webb who presently appeared. He was dressed in 
black clothes of an old-looking cut — a Quaker, I believe. 
Never shall I forget an apple-tart he invited me to try 
as a proof of the merit of the " Wellington " apple. It 
was not only good, but beautiful; the cooked apple 
looking rosy and transparent, and most inviting. He 
told me he was an ardent preacher of total abstinence, 
and took me to a grassy, shady place among the nuts, 
where there was an upright stone slab, Uke a tomb- 
stone, with the inscription : 



He had dug a grave, and poured into it a quantity of 
wine and beer and spirits, and placed the stone as a 
memorial of his abhorrence of drink. The whole thing 
remains in my mind like a picture — the shady groves 
of old nuts, in tenderest early leaf, the pale Daffodils, 
the mighty chained mastiffs with bloodshot eyes and 
murderous fangs, the brawny, wholesome forewoman, 


and the trim old gentleman in black. It was the only 
nursery I ever saw where one would expect to see 
fairies on a summer's night. 

I never tire of admiring and praising Iris stylosa, 
which has proved itself such a good plant for English 
gardens ; at any rate, for those in our southern coun- 
ties. Lovely in form and colour, sweetly-scented and 
with admirable foliage, it has in addition to these 
merits the unusual one of a blooming season of six 
months' duration. The first flowers come with the 
earliest days of November, and its season ends with a 
rush of bloom in the first half of April. Then is the 
time to take up old tufts and part them, and plant 
afresh; the old roots will have dried up into brown 
wires, and the new will be pushing. It thrives in 
rather poor soil, and seems to bloom all the better for 
having its root-run invaded by some stronger plant. 
When I first planted a quantity I had brought fram its 
native place, I made the mistake of putting it in a 
well-prepared border. At first I was delighted to see 
how well it flourished, but as it gave me only thick 
masses of leaves a yard long, and no flowers, it was 
clear that it wanted to be less well fed. After chang- 
ing it to poor soil, at the foot of a sunny wall close to 
a strong clump of Alstromeria, I was rewarded with a 
good crop of flowers; and the more the AlstrQmeria 
grew into it on one side and Plumbago Zarpenti on the 
other, the more freely the brave little Iris flowered. 
The flower has no true stem ; what serves as a stem. 


sometimes a foot long, is the elongated style, so that 
the seed-pod has to be looked for deep down at the 
base of the tufts of leaves, and almost imder gromid. 
The specific name, stylosa, is so clearly descriptive, that 
one regrets that the longer, and certainly uglier, unguis 
ddaris should be preferred by botanists. 

What a delight it was to see it for the first time 
in its home in the hilly wastes, a mile or two inland 
from the town of Algiers I Another lovely blue Iris 
was there too, /. aJata or scorpioides, growing under 
exactly the same conditions; but this is a plant 
unwilling to be acclimatised in England. What a 
paradise it was for flower-rambles, among the giant 
Fennels and the tiny orange Marigolds, and the im- 
mense bulbs of ScUla Tnaritima standing almost out of 
the ground, and the many lovely Bee-orchises and 
the fairy-like Narcissus serotinus, and the groves of 
Prickly Pear wreathed and festooned with the graceful 
tufts of bell-shaped flower and polished leaves of 
Clematis drrhosa I 

It was in the days when there were only a few 
English residents, but among them was the Rev. Edwyn 
Arkwright, who by his happy discovery of a white- 
flowered Iris stylosa, the only one that has been found 
wild, has enriched our gardens with a most lovely 
variety of this excellent plant. I am glad to be able 
to quote his own words : — 

"The finding of the white Iris stylosa belongs to 
the happy old times twenty-five years ago, when there 


were no social duties and no vineyards^ in Algiers. 
My two sisters and I bought three horses, and rode wild 
every day in the scrub of Myrtle, Cistus, Dwarf Oak, 
&c. It was about five miles from the town, on what 
is called the 'Sahel,' that the one plant grew that I 
was told botanists knew ought to exist, but with all 
their searching had never foxmd. I am thankful that 
I dug it up instead of picking it, only knowing that it 
was a pretty flower. Then after a year or two Durando 
saw it, and took off his hat to it, and told me what a 
treasure it was, and proceeded to send off little bits to 
his friends ; and among them all, Ware of Tottenham 
managed to be beforehand, and took a first-class certi- 
ficate for it. It is odd that there should never have 
been another plant foimd, for there never was such a 
free-growing and multiplying plant. My sister in 
Herefordshire has had over fifty blooms this winter; 
but we count it by thousands, and it is the feature in 
all decorations in every English house in Algiers." 

Throughout January, and indeed from the middle 
of December, is the time when outdoor flowers for 
cutting and house decoration are most scarce ; and yet 
there are Christmas Hoses and yellow Jasmine and 
Laurustinus, and in all open weather Iris stylosa and 
Czar Violets. A very few flowers can be made to look 
well if cleverly arranged with plenty of good foUage; 
and even when a hard and long frost spoils the few 

^ The planting of large Tineyards, in some cases of private enter- 
prise, had not proTed a financial success. 


blooms that would otherwise be available, leafy branches 
alone are beautiful in rooms. But, as in all matters 
that have to do with decoration, everything depends 
on a right choice of material and the exercise of taste 
in disposing it. Bed-tinted Berberis always looks well 
alone, if three or four branches are boldly cut from 
two to three feet long. Branches of the spotted Au- 
Cuba do very well by themselves, and are specially 
beautiful in blue china; the larger the leaves and the 
bolder the markings, the better. Where there is an 
old Exmouth Magnolia that can spare some small 
branches, nothing makes a nobler room-ornament. The 
long arching sprays of Alexandrian Laurel do well with 
green or variegated Box, and will live in a room for 
several weeks. Among useful winter leaves of smaller 
growth, those of JEpimedium pinncUum have a fine red 
colour and delicate veining, and I find them very use- 
ful for grouping with greenhouse flowers of delicate 
texture. OavUheria shcUlon is at its best in winter, 
and gives valuable branches and twigs for cutting ; and 
much to be prized are sprays of the Japan Privet, with 
its tough, highly-polished leaves, so much like those 
of the orange. There is a variegated Eurybia, small 
branches of which are excellent ; and always useful are 
the gold aud silver Hollies. 

There is a little plant, Ophwpogon spiccUvm, that 
I grow in rather large quantity for winter cutting, 
the leaves being at their best in the winter months. 
They are sword-shaped aud of a lively green colour, and 


are arranged in flat sheaves after the manner of a flag- 
Iris. I pull up a whole plant at a time — a two-year- 
old plaut is a spreading tuft of the little sheaves — and 
wash it and cut away the groups of leaves just at the 
root, so that they are held together by the root-stock. 
They last long in water, and are beautiful with Roman 
Hyacinths or Freesias or /m stylosa and many other 
flowers. The leaves of Megaseas, especially those of 
the cordifolia section, colour grandly in winter, and 
look fine in a large bowl with the largest blooms of 
Christmas Boses, or with forced Hyacinths. Much 
useful material can be found among Ivies, both of 
the wild and garden kinds. When they are well 
established they generally throw out rather woody 
front shoots; these are the ones to look out for, as 
they stand out with a certain degree of stifi&iess that 
makes them easier to arrange than weaker trailing 

I do not much care for dried flowers — the bulrush 
and pampas-grass decoration has been so much over- 
done, that it has become wearisome — but I make an 
exception in favour of the flower of Evlaiia japonica, 
and always give it a place. It does not come to its 
full beauty out of doors; it only finishes its growth 
late in October, and therefore does not have time to dry 
and expand. I grew it for many years before finding 
out that the closed and rather draggled-looking heads 
would open perfectly in a warm room. The uppermost 
leaf often confines the flower, and should be taken off 



to release it ; the flower does not seem to mature quite 
enough to come free of itself. Bold masses of Heli- 
chrysum certainly give some brightness to a room dur- 
ing the darkest weeks of winter, though the brightest 
jellow is the only one I much care to have; there 
is a look of faded tinsel about the other colourings. 
I much prize large bmiches of the native Iris berries, 
and grow it largely for winter room^mament. 

Among the many valuable suggestions in Mrs. 
Earle's delightful book, "Pot-pourri from a Surrey 
Garden," is the use indoors of the smaller coloured 
gourds. As used by her they give a bright and 
oheerful look to a room that even flowers can not 



Difitant promise of summer — Ivy-berries — Coloured leaves — Ber- 
beris Aquifolium — Its many merits— Thinning and pruning 
shrubs — Lilacs — Removing suckers — Training (Jlematis flam- 
mula — Forms of trees — Juniper, a neglected native evergreen 
— Effect of snow — Power of recovery — Beauty of colour — 
Moss-grown stems. 

There is always in February some one day, at least, 
when one smells the yet distant, but surely coming, 
summer. Perhaps it is a warm, mossy scent that 
greets one when passing along the southern side of a 
hedge-bank ; or it may be in some woodland opening, 
where the sun has coaxed out the pungent smell of 
the trailing groimd Ivy, whose blue flowers wiU soon 
appear; but the day always comes, and with it the 
glad certainty that summer is nearing, and that the 
good things promised will never fail. 

How strangely little of positive green colour is to be 
seen in copse and woodland. Only the moss is really 
green. The next greenest thing is the northern sides 
of the trunks of beech and oak. Walking southward 
they are all green, but looking back they are silver- 
grey. The imdergrowth is of brambles and sparse 



fronds of withered bracken; the bracken less beaten 
down than usual, for the winter has been without 
snow ; only where the soil is deeper, and the fern has 
grown more tall and rank, it has fallen into thick, 
almost felted masses, and the stalks all lying one way 
make the heaps look like lumps of fallen thatch. The 
bramble leaves — ^last year's leaves, which are held all 
the winter — are of a dark, blackish-bronze colour, or 
nearly red where they have seen the sun. Age seems 
to give them a sort of hard surface and enough of a 
poUsh to reflect the sky ; the yoimg leaves that will 
come next month are almost woolly at first. Grassy 
tufts show only bleached bents, so tightly matted, that 
one wonders how the delicate yoimg blades will be 
able to spear through. Ivy-berries, hanging in thick 
clusters, are still in beauty; they are so heavy that 
they weigh down the branches. There is a peculiar 
beauty in the form and veining of the plain-shaped 
leaves belonging to the mature or flowering state that 
the plant reaches when it can no longer climb, whether 
on a wall six feet high or on the battlements of a 
castle. Cuttings grown from such portions retain this 
habit, and form densely-flowering bushes of compact 

Beautiful colouring is now to be seen in many of 
the plants whose leaves do not die down in winter. 
Foremost amongst these is the Foam-flower (TiareUa 
cordifolia), whose leaves, now lying on the ground, 
show bright colouring, inclining to scarlet, crimson, 


and orange. Tellima, its near relation, is also well 
coloured. Oalax aphylla, with its polished leaves of 
hard texture, and stalks almost as stiff as wire, is 
nearly as bright ; and many of the Megaseas are of a 
fine bronze red, the ones that colour best being the 
varieties of the well-known M. crasdfolia and M. cordi- 
folicL Among shrubs, some of the nearly allied genera, 
popularly classed under the name Andromeda, are 
beautiful in reddish colour passing into green, in some 
of the leaves by tender gradation, and in others by 
bold splashing. Berberis Aquifolium begins to colour 
after the first fi-osts; though some plants remain 
green, the greater number take on some rich tinting 
of red or purple, and occasionally in poor soil and in 
full Sim a bright red that may almost be called scarlet. 
What a precious thing this fine old Berberis is ! 
What should we do in winter without its vigorous 
masses of grand foliage in garden and shrubbery, to 
say nothing of its use indoors ? Frequent as it is in 
gardens, it is seldom used as well or thoughtfully as 
it deserves. There are many places where, between 
garden and wood, a well-considered planting of Ber- 
beris, combined with two or three other things of 
larger stature, such as the fruiting Barberry, and White- 
thorn and Holly, would make a very enjoyable piece 
of shrub wild -gardening. When one reflects that 
Berberis Aguifolivm is individually one of the hand- 
somest of small shrubs, that it is at its very best in 
mid-winter, that every leaf is a marvel of beautiful 


drawing and construction, and that its ruddy winter 
colouring is a joy to see, enhanced as it is by the 
glistening brightness of the leaf-surface ; and further, 
when one remembers that in spring the whole picture 
changes — that the polished leaves are green again, and 
the bushes are full of tufted masses of brightest yellow 
bloom, and fuller of bee-music than any other plant 
then in flower; and that even then it has another 
season of beauty yet to come, when in the days of 
middle summer it is heavily loaded with the thick- 
clustered masses of berries, covered with a brighter 
and bluer bloom than almost any other fruit can 
show, — when one thinks of all this brought together 
in one plant, it seems but right that we should spare 
no pains to use it well. It is the only hardy shrub 
I can think of that is in one or other of its varied 
forms of beauty throughout the year. It is never 
leafless or untidy ; it never looks mangy like an Hex in 
April, or moulting like a Holly in May, or patchy and 
unfinished like Yew and Box and many other ever- 
greens when their young leafy shoots are sprouting. 

We have been thmning the shrubs in one of the 
rather large clumps next to the lawn, taking the older 
wood in each climip right out from the bottom and 
letting more light and air into the middle. Weigelas 
grow fast and very thick. Quite two-thirds have been 
cut out of each bush of Weigela, Philadelphus, and 
Ribes, and a good bit out of Ceanothus, " Gloire de 
Versailles," my favourite of its kind, and all the oldest 


wood firom Viburnum plicatus. The stuff cut out 
makes quite a respectable lot of faggoting. How 
extremely dense and hard is the wood of Philadel- 
phus ! as close-grained as Box, and almost as hard 
as the bright yellow wood of Berberis. 

Some of the Lilacs have a good many suckers from 
the root, as well as on the lower part of the stem. 
These must all come away, and then the trees will 
have a good dressing of manure. They are greedy 
feeders, and want it badly in our light soil, and surely 
no flowering shrub more truly deserves it. The Lilacs 
I have are some of the beautiful kinds raised in 
France, for which we can never be thankful enough 
to our good neighbours across the Channel. The 
white variety, "Marie Legraye," always remains my 
favourite. Some are larger and whiter, and have 
the trusses more evenly and closely filled, but this 
beautiful Marie fills one with a satisfying conviction 
as of something that is just right, that has arrived 
at the point of just the best and most lovable kind 
of beauty, and has been wisely content to stay there> 
not attempting to pass beyond and excel itself. Its 
beauty is modest and reserved, and temperate and 
full of refinement. The colour has a deliciously- 
tender warmth of white, and as the truss is not 
over-full, there is room for a delicate play of warm 
half-light within its recesses. Among the many 
beautiful coloured Lilacs, I am fond of Lucie Baltet 
and Princesse Marie. There may be better flowers 


from the ordinary florist point of view, but these 
have the charm that is a good garden flower's 
most precious quality. I do not like the cold, heavy- 
coloured ones of the bluish-slaty kinds. No shrub 
is hardier than the Lilac; I believe they flourish 
even within the Arctic Circle. It is very nearly allied 
to Privet; so nearly, that the oval-leaved Privet is 
commonly used as a stock. Standard trees flower 
much better than bushes ; in this form all the strength 
seems to go directly to the flowering boughs. No 
shrub is more persistent in throwing up suckers 
from the root and from the lower part of the stem, 
but in bush trees as well as in standards they should 
be carefully removed every year. In the case of 
bushes, three or four main stems will be enough to 
leave. When taking away suckers of any kind what- 
ever, it is much better to tear them out than to 
cut them off. A cut, however close, leaves a base 
from which they may always spring again, but if 
pulled or wrenched out they bring away with them 
the swollen base that, if left in, would be a likely source 
of future trouble. 

Before the end of February we must be sure to 
prune and train any plants there may be of Clematis 
Jtamrfivla, Its growth is so rapid when once it begins, 
that if it is overlooked it soon grows into a tangled 
mass of succulent weak young stuff, quite immanage- 
able two months hence, when it will be hanging about 
in helpless masses, dead and living together. If it 


IS left till then, one can only engirdle the whole thing 
with a soft tarred rope and sling it up somehow or 
anyhow. But if taken now, when the young growths 
4ire just showing at the joints, the last year's mass can 
be untangled, the dead and the over-much cut out, 
and the best pieces trained in. In gardening, the 
interests of the moment are so engrossing that one 
is often tempted to forget the futiure; but it is well 
to remember that this lovely and tenderly -scented 
-Clematis will be one of the chief beauties of September, 
and well deserves a little timely care. 

In summer-time one never really knows how beauti- 
ful are the forms of the deciduous trees. It is only in 
winter, when they are bare of leaves, that one can fully 
'enjoy their splendid structure and design, their admir- 
able qualities of duly apportioned strength and grace of 
poise, and the way the spread of the many-branched 
head has its equivalent in the wide-reaching ground- 
grasp of the root And it is interesting to see how, 
in the many different kinds of tree, the same laws are 
always in force, and the same results occur, and yet by 
the employment of what varied means. For nothing 
in the growth of trees can be much more unlike than 
the habit of the oak and that of the weeping willow, 
though the unlikeness only comes from the different 
adjustment of the same sources of power and the same 
weights, just as in the movement of wind-blown leaves 
some flutter and some undulate, while others turn over 
and back again. Old apple-trees are specially notice- 


able for their beauty in winter, when their extremely 
graceful shape, less visible when in loveliness of spring 
bloom or in rich bounty of autumn fruit, is seen to 
fullest advantage. 

Few in number are our native evergreens, and for 
that reason all the more precious. One of them, the 
common Jumper, is one of the best of shrubs either 
for garden or wild groimd, and yet, strangely enough, 
it is so little appreciated that it is scarcely to be 
had in nurseries. Chinese Junipers, North American 
Junipers, Junipers from Spain and Greece, from Nepaul 
and Siberia, may be had, but the best Juniper of all 
is very rarely grown. Were it a common tree one 
could see a sort of reason (to some minds) for over- 
looking it, but though it is fairly abundant on a few 
hill-sides in the southern counties, it is by no means 
widely distributed throughout the country. Even this 
reason would not be consistent with common practice, 
for the Holly is abundant throughout England, and yet 
is to be had by the thousand in every nursery. Be 
the reason what it may, the common Jimiper is one 
of the most desirable of evergreens, and is most im- 
deservedly neglected. Even our botanists fail to do 
it justice, for Bentham describes it as a low shrub 
growing two feet, three feet, or four feet high. I quote 
from memory only ; these may not be the words, but 
this is the sense of his description. He had evidently 
seen it on the chalk downs only, where such a portrait 
of it is exactly right. But in our sheltered uplands, in 


Scotch Fibs thrown on to Frozen Water by Snowstorm. 


sandy soil, it is a small tree of noble aspect, twelve 
to twenty-eight feet high. In form it is extremely 
variable, for sometimes it shoots up on a single stem 
and looks like an Italian Cypress or like the upright 
Chinese Juniper, while at other times it will have two 
or more tall spires and a dense surrounding mass of 
lower growth, while in other cases it will be like a 
quantity of young trees growing close together, and 
yet the trees in all these varied forms may be nearly 
of an age. 

The action of snow is the reason of this^ imlikeness 
of habit. If, when young, the tree happens to have 
one main stem strong enough to shoot up alone, and 
if at the same tune there come a sequence of winters 
without much snow, there will be the tall, straight, 
cypress-like tree. But if, as is more commonly the 
case, the growth is divided into a number of stems of 
nearly equal size, sooner or later they are sure to be 
laid down by snow. Such a winter storm as that of 
the end of December 1886 was especially disastrous to 
Junipers. Snow came on early in the evening in this 
district, when the thermometer was barely at freez- 
ing point and there was no wiad. It hung on the 
trees in clogging masses, with a lowering temperature 
that was soon below freezing. The snow stUl falling 
loaded them more and more; then came the fatal 
wind, and all through that night we heard the break- 
ing trees. When morning came there were eighteen 
inches of snow on the groimd, and all the trees that 


could be seen, mostly Scotch fir, seemed to be com- 
pletely wrecked. Some were entirely stripped of 
branches, and stood up bare, like scaffold-poles. Until 
the snow was gone or half gone, no idea could be 
formed of the amount of damage done to shrubs ; all 
were borne down and buried under the white rounded 
masses. A great Holly on the edge of the lawn, nearly 
thirty feet high and as much in spread, whose head in 
summer is crowned with a great tangle of Honeysuckle, 
had that crowned head lying on the ground weighted 
down by the frozen mass. But when the snow was 
gone and all the damage could be seen, the Junipers 
looked worse than anything. What had lately been 
shapely groups were lying perfectly flat, the bare- 
stemmed, leafless portions of the inner part of the 
group showing, and looking like a faggot of dry brush- 
wood, that, having been stood upright, had burst its 
band and fallen apart in all directions. Some, whose 
stems had weathered many snowy winters, now had 
them broken short off half-way up ; while others escaped 
with bare life, but with the thick, strong stem broken 
down, the heavy head lying on the ground, and the 
stem wrenched open at the break, like a half-untwisted 
rope. The great wild Junipers were the pride of our 
stretch of heathy waste just beyond the garden, and 
the scene of desolation was truly piteous, for though 
many of them already bore the marks of former 
accidents, never within our memory had there been 
such complete and comprehensive destruction. 


But now, ten years later, so great is their power of 
recovery, that there are the same Junipers, and, except 
in the case of those actually broken off, looking as well 
as ever. For those with many stems that were laid 
do¥ni flat have risen at the tips, and each tip looks 
like a visforous younfif ten-year-old tree. What was 

feet to fifteen feet high, now covers a space thirty feet 
across, and looks like a thick group of closely-planted, 
healthy yoimg ones. The half broken-down trees have 
also risen at the tips, and are full of renewed vigour. 
Indeed, this breaking down and splitting open seems 
to give them a new energy, for individual trees that I 
have known well, and observed to look old and over- 
worn, and to all appearance on the downward road of 
life, after being broken and laid down by snow, have, 
some years later, shot up again with every evidence 
of vigorous young life. It would be more easily 
accounted for if the branch rooted where it touched 
the groimd, as so many trees and bushes will do ; but 
as far as I have been able to observe, the Juniper does 
not " layer " itself. I have often thought I had found 
a fine young one fit for transplanting, but on clearing 
away the moss and fern at the supposed root have 
found that it was only the tip of a laid-down branch 
of a tree perhaps twelve feet away. In the case of 

one of our trees, among a group of laid-down and 


grown-up branches, one old central trunk has sur- 
vived. It is now so thick and strong, and has so 


little top, that it will be likely to stand till it falls 
from sheer old age. Close to it is another, whose 
main stem was broken down about five feet from the 
ground; now, what was the head rests on the earth 
nine feet away, and a circle of its outspread branches 
has become a wholesome group of young upright 
growths, while at the place where the stem broke, the 
half-opened wrench still shows as clearly as on the 
day it was done. 

Among the many merits of the Juniper, its tenderly 
mysterious beauty of coloiuing is by no means the 
least ; a colouring as delicately subtle in its own way 
as that of cloud or mist, or haze in warm, wet wood- 
land. It has very little of positive green ; a suspicion 
of warm colour in the shadowy hollows, and a blue- 
grey bloom of the tenderest quality imaginable on the 
outer masses of foliage. Each tiny, blade-Uke leaf has 
a band of dead, palest bluish-green colour on the 
upper siuf ace, edged with a narrow line of dark green 
slightly polished ; the back of the leaf is of the same 
full, rather dark green, with slight polish ; it looks as if 
the green back had been brought up over the edge of 
the leaf to make the dark edging on the upper surface. 
The stems of the twigs are of a warm, almost foxy 
colour, becoming darker and redder in the branches. 
The tips of the twigs curl over or hang out on all sides 
towards the light, and the *' set " of the individual twigs 
is full of variety. This arrangement of mixed colour- 
ing and texture, and infinitely various positions of the 


spiny little leaves, allows the eye to penetrate uncon- 
sciously a little way into the mass, so that one sees as 
much tender shadow as actual leaf-surface, and this is 
probably the cause of the wonderfully delicate and, so 
to speak, intangible quality of colouring. Then, again, 
where there is a hollow place in a bush, or group, showing 
a cluster of half-dead stems, at first one cannot tell 
what the colour is, till with half-shut eyes one becomes 
aware of a dusky and yet luminous purple-grey. 

The merits of the Jimiper are not yet done with, 
for throughout the winter (the time of growth of moss 
and lichen) the rugged-barked old stems are clothed 
with loveKest pale-green growths of a sUvery quality. 
Standing before it, and trying to put the colour into 
words, one repeats, again and again, pale-green silver — 
palest silvery green I Where the lichen is old and 
dead it is greyer ; every now and then there is a touch 
of the orange kind, and a little of the branched stag- 
horn pattern so common on the heathy ground. Here 
and there, as the tnmk or branch is increasing in 
girth, the silvery, lichen-clad, rough outer bark has 
parted, and shows the smooth, dark-red inner bark; 
the outer covering still cUnging over the opening, and 
looking like grey ribands slightly interlaced. Many 
another kind of tree-stem is beautiful in its winter 
dress, but it is difficult to find any so full of varied 
beauty and interest as that of the Juniper; it is one 
of the yearly feasts that never fails to delight and 



Flowering bulbs — Dog-tooth Violet — Rock-garden — Variety of 
Rhododendron foliage — A beautiful old kind — Suckers on 
grafted plants — Plants for filling up the beds — Heaths — An- 
dromedas — Lady Fern — Lilium auratum — Pruning Roses — 
Training and tying climbing plants — Climbing and free-grow- 
ing Roses — The Vine the best wall-covering — Other climbers— 
Wild Clematis— Wild Rose. 

In early March many and lovely are the flowering 
bulbs, and among them a wealth of blue, the more 
precious that it is the colour least frequent among 
flowers. The blue of ScUla sibirica, like all blues that 
have in them a suspicion of green, has a curiously 
penetrating quality ; the blue of Scilla bifolia does not 
attack the eye so smartly. Chionodoxa mrdensis is of a 
full and satisfying colour, that is enhanced by the small 
space of clear white throat. A bed of it shows very 
little variation in colour. Chionodoxa I/ucillice, on the 
other hand, varies greatly ; one may pick out light and 
dark blue, and light and dark of almost lilac colour. 
The variety C. gigantea is a fine plant. There are some 
pretty kinds of Scilla bifolia that were raised by the 
Rev. J. G. Nelson of Aldborough, among them a tender 



flesh-colour and a good pink. Leucqjwm vemuniy with 
its clear white flowers and polished dark-green leaves, 
is one of the gems of early March ; and, flowering at 
the same time, no flower of the whole year can show a 
more splendid and sumptuous colour than the purple 
of Iris reticulata. Varieties have been raised, some 
larger, some nearer blue, and some reddish purple, but 
the type remains the best garden flower. Iris stylosay 
in sheltered nooks open to the sun, when well estab- 
lished, gives flower from November till April, the 
strongest rush of bloom being about the third week in 
March. It is a precious plant in our southern counties, 
delicately scented, of a tender and yet full lilac-blue. 
The long ribbon-like leaves make handsome tufts, and 
the sheltered place it needs in our climate saves the 
flowers from the injury they receive on their native 
windy Algerian hills, where they are nearly always torn 
into tatters. 

What a charm there is about the common Dog- 
tooth Violet ; it is pretty everywhere, in borders, in the 
rock-garden, in all sorts of corners. But where it looks 
best with me is in a grassy place strewn with dead 
leaves, under young oaks, where the garden joins the 
copse. This is a part of the pleasure-groimd that has 
been treated with some care, and has rewarded thought 
and labour with some success, so that it looks less as if 
it had been planned than as if it might have come 
naturally. At one point the lawn, trending gently up- 
ward, runs by grass paths into a rock-garden, planted 



mainly with dwarf shrubs. Here are Andromedas, 
Pemettjas, Graultherias, and Alpine Bhododendron, 
and with them three favourites whose crushed leaves 
give a grateful fragrance, Sweet Gale, Ledum paiustre, 
and Bhododendron myrtifolium. The rock part is im- 
obtrusive ; where the ground rises rather quickly are a 
couple of ridges made of large, long lumps of sand- 
stone, half buried, and so laid as to give a look of 
natural stratification. Hardy Ferns are grateful for 
the coolness of their northern flanks, and Cyclamens 
are happy on the ledges. Beyond and above is the 
copse, or thin wood of yotmg silver Birch and Holly, 
in summer clothed below with bracken, but now brist- 
ling with the bluish spears of Daffodils and buds 
that will soon burst into bloom. The early Pyrenean 
Daffodil is already out, gleaming through the low- 
toned copse like lamps of pale yellow light. Where 
the rough path enters the birch copse is a cheerfully 
twinkling throng of the Dwarf Daffodil {N. names), 
looking quite at its best on its carpet of moss and fine 
grass and dead leaves. The light wind gives it a 
graceful, dancing movement, with an active spring 
about the upper part of the stalk. Some of the heavier 
trumpets not far off answer to the same wind with 
only a ponderous, leaden sort of movement. 

Farther along the garden joins the wood by a 
plantation of Bhododendrons and broad grassy paths, 
and farther still by a thicket of the free-growing Koses, 
some forming fountain-like climips nine paces in dia- 


meter, and then again by masses of flowering shrubs^ 
gradating by means of Sweetbriar, Water-elder, Dog- 
wood, Medlar, and Thorn from garden to wild wood. 

Now that the Rhododendrons, planted nine years 
ago, have grown to a state and size of yomig maturity, 
it is interesting to observe how much they vary in 
foliage, and how clearly the leaves show their relative 
degrees of relationship to their original parents, the 
wild mountain plants of Asia Minor and the United 
States. These, being two of the hardiest kinds, were 
the ones first chosen by hybridisers, and to these kinds 
we owe nearly all of the large numbers of beautiful 
garden Rhododendrons now in cultivation. The ones 
more nearly related to the wild B, porUicum have long, 
narrow, shining dark-green leaves, while the varieties 
that incline more to the American B. catawbiense have 
the leaves twice as broad, and almost rounded at the 
shoulder where they join the stalk; moreover, the 
surface of the leaf has a different texture, less polished, 
and showing a grain Uke morocco leather. The colour 
also is a lighter and more yellowish green, and the 
bush is not so densely branched. The leaves of all 
the kinds are inclined to hang down in cold weather, 
and this habit is more clearly marked in the cataw- 
biense varieties. 

There is one old kind called Mvltum macvJcUum — 
I dare say one of the earliest hybrids — for which I 
have a special liking. It is now despised by florists, 
because the flower is thin in texture and the petal 


narrow, and the truss not tightly filled. Nevertheless 
I find it quite the most beautiful Rhododendron as a 
cut flower, perhaps just because of these unorthodox 
qualities. And much as I admire the great bouncing 
beauties that axe most justly the pride of their raisers, 
I hold that this most refined and delicate class of 
beauty equally deserves faithful championship. The 
flowers of this pretty old kind are of a delicate milk- 
white, and the lower petals are generously spotted with 
a rosy-scarlet of the loveliest quality. The leaves are 
the longest and narrowest and darkest green of any 
kind I know, making the bush conspicuously hand- 
some in winter. I have to confess that it is a shy 
bloomer, and that it seems unwilling to flower in a 
young state, but I think of it as a thing so beautiful 
and desirable as to be worth waiting for. 

Within March, and before the busier season comes 
upon us, it is well to look out for the suckers that are 
likely to come on grafted plants. They may generally 
1)0 detected by the typical ponticum leaf, but if the 
foliage of a branch should be suspicious and yet doubt- 
ful, if on following the shoot down it is seen to come 
straight from the root and to have a redder bark than 
the rest, it may safely be taken for a robber. Of course 
the invading stock may be easily seen when in flower, 
l)ut the good gardener takes it away before it has this 
chance of reproaching him. A lady visitor last year 
told me with some pride that she had a most wonder- 
ful Rhododendron in bloom ; all the flower in the 


middle was crimson, with a ring of purple-flowered 
branches outside. I am afraid she was disappointed 
when I offered condolence instead of congratulation^ 
and had to tell her that the phenomenon was not im- 
common among neglected bushes. 

When my Rhododendron beds were first planted, I 
followed the usual practice of filling the outer empty 
spaces of the clumps with hardy Heaths. Perhaps it 
is still the best or one of the best ways to begin when 
the bushes are quite young; for if planted the right 
distance apart — seven to nine feet — there must be 
large bare spaces between ; but now that they have 
filled the greater part of the beds, I find that the other 
plants I tried are more to my liking. These are, fore- 
most of all, Androrneda Catesbod^ then Lady Fern, and 
then the dwarf Rhododendron myrtifolium. The main 
spaces between the yoimg bushes I plant with Cistus 
lauri/olivs, a perfectly hardy kind; this grows much 
fjEister than the Rhododendrons, and soon fills the 
middle spaces ; by the time that the best of its life is 
over — for it is a short-lived bush — the Rhododendrons 
will be wanting all the space. Here and there in the 
inner spaces I put groups of Liliwm, auratum^ a lily 
that thrives in a peaty bed, and that looks its best 
when growing through other plants ; moreover, when 
the Rhododendrons are out of flower, the Lily, whose 
blooming season is throughout the late summer and 
autumn, gives a new beauty and interest to that part 
of the garden. 


The time has come for pruning Roses, and for tying 
up and training the plants that clothe wall and fence 
and pergola. And this sets one thinking about climb- 
ing and rambling plants, and all their various ways 
and wants, and of how best to use them. One of my 
boimdaries to a road is a fence about nine feet high, 
wall below and close oak paling above. It is planted 
with free-growing Roses of several types — Aim^e Vibert, 
Madame Alfred Carrifere, Reine Olga de Wurtemburg, 
and Bouquet d'Or, the strongest of the Dijon teas. Then 
comes a space of Clenuitis Montana and ClemcUis Jlam- 
mvla, and then more Roses — Madame Plantier, Em^lie 
Plantier (a delightful Rose to cut), and some of the 
grand Sweetbriars raised by Lord Penzance. 

From midsummer onwards these Roses are con- 
tinually cut for flower, and yield an abundance of 
quite the most ornamental class of bloom. For I like 
to have cut Roses arranged in a large, free way, with 
whole branches three feet or four feet long, easy to 
have from these free-growing kinds, that throw out 
branches fifteen feet long in one season, even on our 
poor, sandy soil, that contains no particle of that rich 
loam that Roses love. I think this same Reine Olga, 
the grand grower from which have come our longest 
and largest prunings, must be quite the best evergreen 
Rose, for it holds its full clothing of handsome dark- 
green leaves right through the winter. It seems to 
like hard pruning. I have one on a part of the per- 
gola, but have no pleasure from it, as it has rushed 

fi Clematcs Craveolbns. 


up to the top, and nothing shows but a few naked 

One has to find out how to use all these different 
Roses. How often one sees the wrong Roses used as 
climbers on the walls of a house. I have seen a Gloire 
de Dijon covering the side of a house with a profitless 
reticulation of bare stem, and a few leaves and flowers 
looking into the gutter just imder the edge of the roof. 
What are generally recommended as climbing Roses 
are too ready to ramp away, leaving bare, leggy growth 
where wall -clothing is desired. One of the best is 
climbing Aim6e Vibert, for with very little pruning it 
keeps well furnished nearly to the ground, and with 
its graceful clusters of white bloom and healthy- 
looking, polished leaves is always one of the prettiest 
of Roses. Its only fault is that it does not shed its 
dead petals, but retains the whole bloom in dead brown 

But if a Rose wishes to cUmb, it should be accom- 
modated with a suitable place. That excellent old 
Rose, the Dundee Rambler, or the still prettier Garland 
Rose, will find a way up a Holly-tree, and fling out its 
long wreaths of tenderly-tinted bloom ; and there can 
be no better way of using the lovely Himalayan JR. 
Brunonis, with its long, almost blue leaves and wealth 
of milk-white flower. A common Sweetbriar will also 
push up among the branches of some dark evergreen. 
Yew or Holly, and throw out aloft its scented branches 
and rosy bloom, and look its very best. 


But some of these same free Roses are best of all 
if left in a clear space to grow exactly as they will 
without any kind of support or training. So placed, 
they grow into large rounded groups. Every year, just 
after the young laterals on the last year's branches 
haye flowered, they throw out vigorous young rods 
that arch over as they complete their growth, and will 
be the flower-bearers of the year to come. 

Two kinds of Roses of rambling growth that are 
rather tender, but indispensable for beauty, are For- 
tune's Tellow and the Banksias. Pruning the free 
Roses is always rough work for the hands and clothes, 
but of all Roses I know, the worst to handle is Fortune's 
Yellow. The prickles are hooked back in a way that 
no care or ingenuity can escape; and whether it is 
their shape and power of cruel grip, or whether they 
have anything of a poisonous quality, I do not know ; 
but whereas hands scratched and torn by Roses in 
general heal quickly, the wounds made by Fortune's 
Yellow are much more painful and much slower to get 
well. I knew an old labourer who died of a rose-prick. 
He used to work about the roads, and at cleaning the 
ditches and mending the hedges. For some time I 
did not see him, and when I asked another old coun- 
tryman, " What's gone o' Master Trussler ? " the answer 
was, " He's dead — died of a canker-bush." The wild 
Dog-rose is still the '' canker " in the speech of the old 
people, and a thorn or prickle is still a ''bush." A 
Dog-rose prickle had gone deep into the old hedger's 


hand — a *' bush " more or less was nothing to him, but 
the neglected little wound had become tainted with 
some impurity, blood-poisoning had set in. and my 
poor old friend had truly enough *' died of a canker- 

The flowering season of Fortune's Yellow is a very 
short one, but it comes so early, and the flowers haye 
such incomparable beauty, and are so little like those 
of any other Bose, that its value is quite without doubt. 
Some of the Tea Roses approach it in its pink and 
copper colouring, but the loose, open, rather flaimting 
form of the flower, and the twisted set of the petals^ 
display the colour better than is possible in any of the 
more regular-shaped Roses. It is a good plan to grow 
it through some other wall shrub, as it soon gets bare 
below, and the early maturing flowering tips are glad 
to be a little sheltered by the near neighbourhood of 
other foliage. 

I do not think that there is any other Rose that 
has just the same rich, butter colour as the Yellow 
Banksian, and this imusual colouring is the more 
distinct because each little Rose in the cluster is nearly 
evenly coloured all over, besides being in such dense 
bunches. The season of bloom is very short, but the 
neat, polished foliage is always pleasant to see through- 
out the year. The white kind and the larger white 
are both lovely as to the individual bloom, but they 
flower so much more shyly that the yellow is much 
the better garden plant. 


But the best of all climbing or rambling plants^ 
whether for wall or arbour or pergola, is imdoubtedly 
the Grape- Vine. Even when trimly pruned and trained 
for fruit-bearing on an outer wall it is an admirable 
picture of leafage and fruit-cluster ; but to have it in 
fullest beauty it must ramp at will, for it is only 
when the fast-growing branches are thrown out fax 
and wide that it fairly displays its graceful vigour 
and the generous magnificence of its incomparable 

The hardy Chasselas, known in England by the 
rather misleading name Royal Muscadine, is one of 
the best, both for fruit and foliage. The leaves are of 
moderate size, with clearly serrated edges and that 
strongly waved outline that gives the impression of 
powerful build, and is, in £eM)t, a mechanical contrivance 
intended to stiffen the structure. The colour of the 
leaves is a fresh, lively green, and in autunm they are 
prettily marbled with yellow. Where a very large- 
leaved Vine is wanted nothing is handsomer than the 
North American Vitis Labrusca or the Asiatic VUii 
Coignettii, whose autimin leaves are gorgeously coloured. 
For a place that demands more delicate foliage there 
is the Parsley- Vine, that has a delightful look of refine- 
ment, and another that should not be forgotten is the 
Claret- Vine, with autumnal colouring of almost scarlet 
and purple, and abundance of tightly clustered black 
fruit, nearly blue with a heavy bloom. 

Many an old house and garden can show the far- 


Tambling power of the beautiful Wistaria Chinensis, 
and of the large-leaved Aridolochia Siphoy one of the 
1>est plants for covering a pergola, and of the varieties 
of Ampdopais, near relations of the Grape-Vine. The 
limit of these notes only admits of mention of some of 
the more important climbers; but among these the 
ever-delightful white Jasmine must have a place. It 
vail ramble far and fast if it has its own way, but 
then gives Uttle flower ; but by close winter pruning 
it can be kept full of bloom and leaf nearly to the 

The woods and hedges have also their beautiful 
climbing plants. Honeysuckle in suitable conditions 
will ramble to great heights — in this district most 
noticeable in tall Hollies and Junipers as well as in high 
hedges. The wild Clematis is most frequent on the 
chalk, where it laces together whole hedges and rushes 
up trees, clothing them in July with long wreaths of 
delicate bloom, and in September with still more con- 
spicuous feathery seed. For rapid growth perhaps no 
English plant outstrips the Hop, growing afresh from 
the root every year, and almost equalling the Vine in 
beauty of leaf. The two kinds of wild Bryony are also 
herbaceous climbers of rapid growth, and among the 
most beautiful of our hedge plants. 

The wild Roses nm up to great heights in hedge 
and thicket, and never look so well as when among the 
tangles of mixed growth of wild forest land or clamber- 
ing through some old gnarled thorn-tree. The common 


Brambles are also best seen in these forest groups; 
these again in form of leaf show somewhat of a vine- 
like beauty. 

In the end of March, or at any time during the 
month when the wind is in the east or north-east, all 
increase and development of vegetation appears to 
cease. As things are, so they remain. Plants, that are 
in flower retain their bloom, but, as it were, under pro- 
test. A kind of sullen dulness pervades all plant life. 
Sweet-scented shrubs do not give off their fragrance; 
even the woodland moss and earth and dead leaves 
withhold their sweet, nutty scent. The surfEice of the 
earth has an arid, infertile look ; a slight haze of an 
ugly grey takes the colour out of objects in middle 
distance, and seems to rob the flowers of theirs, or to 
put them out of harmony with all things aroimd. But 
a day comes, or, perhaps, a warmer night, when the 
wind, now breathing gently from the south-west, puts 
new life into all growing things. A marvellous change 
is wrought in a few hours. A little warm rain has 
fallen, and plants, invisible before, and doubtless still 
underground, spring into glad life. 

What an innocent charm there is about many of 
the true spring flowers. Primroses of many colours 
are now in bloom, but the prettiest, this year, is a patch 
of an early blooming white one, grouped with a deli- 
cate lilac. Then comes Omphaiodes vema^ with its 
flowers of brilliant blue and foliage of brightest green» 
better described by its pretty north-country name^ 


Blue-eyed Mary. There are Violets of many colours, 
but daintiest of all is the pale-blue St. Helena; 
whether it is the effect of its delicate colouring, or 
whether it has really a better scent than other yarieties 
of the conunon Violet, I cannot say, but it always seems 
to haye a more refined fragrance. 



Woodland spring flowers — Daffodils in the copse — Grape Hyacintha 
and other spring bulbs — How best to plant them — Flowering- 
shrubs — Rock-plants — Sweet scents of April — Snowy Mespilus^ 
Marsh Marigolds, and other spring flowers — Primrose garden — 
Pollen of Scotch Fir — Opening seed-pods of Fir and Qorse — 
Auriculas — Tulips — Small shrubs for rock-garden — Daffodils 
as cut flowers — Lent Hellebores — Primroses — Leaves of wild 

In early April there is quite a wealth of flower 
among plants that belong half to wood and half to 
garden. Epimedium pinncUum, with its delicate, orchid- 
like spike of pale-yellow bloom, flowers with its last 
year's leaves, but as soon as it is fully out the youngs 
leaves rush up, as if hastening to accompany the 
flowers. Deritaria pinncUa, a woodland plant of Swit- 
zerland and Austria, is one of the handsomest of the 
white-flowered cruciferce, with well-filled heads of twelve 
to fifteen flowers, and palmate leaves of freshest green. 
Hard by, and the best possible plant to group with it,, 
is the lovely Virginian Cowslip (Msrtensia virginica\ 
the very embodiment of the freshness of early spring. 
The sheaf of young leafage comes almost black out 



of the ground, but as the leaves develop, their dull, 
lurid colouring changes to a full, pale green of a 
curious texture, quite smooth, and yet absolutely un- 
reflecting. The dark colouring of the young leaves 
now only remains as a faint tracery of veining on the 
backs of the leaves and stalks, and at last dies quite 
away as the bloom expands. The flower is of a rare 
and beautiful quality of colour, hard to describe — a 
rainbow-flower of purple, indigo, full and pale blue, 
and daintiest lilac, full of infinite variety and inde- 
scribable charm. The flowers are in terminal clusters, 
richly filled ; lesser clusters springing from the axils 
of the last few leaves and joining with the topmost 
one to form a gracefully drooping head. The lurid 
colouring of the yoimg leaves is recalled in the flower- 
stems and calix, and enhances the colour effect of the 
whole. The flower of the common Dog-tooth Violet 
is over, but the leaves have grown larger and hand- 
somer. They look as if, originally of a purplish-red 
colour, some liquid had been dropped on them, making 
confluent pools of pale green, lightest at the centre 
of the drop. The noblest plant of the same family 
(JErythroniwm, giganteum) is now in flower — a striking 
and beautiful wood plant, with turn-cap shaped flowers 
of palest straw-colour, almost white, and large leaves, 
whose markings are not drop-like as in the more 
familiar kind, but are arraoged in a regular sequence 
of bold splashings, reminding one of a Maranta, The 
flowers^ single or in pairs, rise on stems a foot or fifteen 


inches liigh; the throat is beautifully marked witih 
flames of rich bay on a yellow ground, and the hand- 
some group of golden-anthered stamens and silvery 
pistil make up a flower of singular beauty and refine* 
ment. That valuable Indian Primrose, P. derUicidatc^ 
is another fine plant for the cool edge or shady hoUowB 
of woodland in rather good, deep soil 

But the glory of the copse just now consists in the 
great stretches of Daffodils. Through the wood run 
shallow, parallel hollows, the lowest part of each de- 
pression some nine paces apart. Local tradition bsljs 
they are the remains of old pack-horse roads; they 
occur frequently in the forest-like heathery uplands 
of our poor-soiled, sandy land, running, for the most 
part, three or four together, almost evenly side by side. 
The old people account for this by saying that when 
one track became too much worn another was taken 
by its side. Where these pass through the birch 
copse the Daffodils have been planted in the shallow 
hollows of the old ways, in spaces of some three yards 
broad by thirty or forty yards long — one kind at a 
time. Two of such tracks, planted with Narcissus 
princeps and N, Horsfieldiy are now waving rivers of 
bloom, in many lights and accidents of cloud and sun- 
shine full of pictorial effect. The planting of Daffodils 
in this part of the copse is much better than in any 
other portions where there were no guiding track- ways, 
and where they were planted in haphazard sprinklings. 

The Grape Hyacinths are now in full bloom. It 


is well to avoid the common one {MuscqH racemosum), 
at any rate in light soils, where it becomes a trouble- 
some weed. One of the best is M, conicum ; this, with 
the upright-leaved Jf. botrj/oides, and its white variety, 
are the best for general use, but the Plume HyaciQth^ 
which flowers later, should have a place. Omithogalum 
nutaTia is another of the bulbous plants that, though 
beautiful in flower, becomes so pestilent a weed that 
it is best excluded. 

Where and how the early flowering bulbs had best 
be planted is a question of some difficulty. Perhaps 
the mixed border, where they are most usually put, is 
the worst place of all, for when in flower they only 
show as forlorn little patches of bloom rather far apart, 
and when their leaves die down, leaving their places 
looking empty, the ruthless spade or trowel stabs into 
them when it is desired to fill the space with some 
other plant. Moreover, when the border is manured 
and partly dug in the autumn, it is difficult to avoid 
digging up the bulbs just when they are in full root- 
growth. Probably the best plan is to devote a good 
space of cool bank to small bulbs and hardy ferns, 
pLting the ferns in such groups as wiU 1 Je good 
spaces for the bulbs ; then as their leaves are going 
the fern fronds are developing and will cover the 
whole space. Another way is to have them among 
any groups of newly planted small shrubs, to be left 
there for spring blooming untU the shrubs have covered 
their allotted space. 



Many flowering shrubs are in beauty. Andromeda 
Jloribunda still holds its persistent bloom that has 
endured for nearly two months. The thick, drooping, 
tassel-like bunches of bloom of Andromeda japonica are 
Just going over. Magnolia stellata, a compact bush 
some five feet high and wide, is white with the multi- 
tude of its starry flowers ; individually they look half 
double, having fourteen to sixteen petals. Forsythia 
stispensa, with its graceful habit and tender yellow 
flower, is a much better shrub than F. viridisnma, 
though, strangely enough, that is the one most com- 
monly planted. Corchorus, with its bright-yeUow 
balls, the fine old rosy Ribes, the Japan Quinces and 
their salmon-coloured relative Pyrus MaiUeii, Spircea 
Thuribergi, with its neat habit and myriads of tiny 
flowers, these make frequent points of beauty and 

In the rock - garden, Cardamine trifoliata and 
Hutchinsia alpina are conspicuous from their pure 
white flowers and neat habit ; both have leaves of 
darkest green, as if the better to show off the bloonu 
Bammcul^is montanvs fringes the cool base of a large 
stone ; its whole height not over three inches, though 
its bright-yellow flowers are larger than field butter- 
cups. The surface of the petals is curiously brilliant, 
glistening and flashing like glass. Corydalis eapnoides 
is a charming rock-plant, with flowers of palest sulphur 
colour, one of the neatest and most graceful of its 

E Garijen 50[ns Copse. 


Border plants are pushing up vigorous green 
growth; finest of all are the Yeratrums, with their 
bold, deeply-plaited leaves of brilliant green. Delphin- 
iums and Oriental Poppies have also made strong 
foliage, and Daylilies are conspicuous from their fresh 
masses of pale greenery. Flag Iris have their leaves 
three parts grown, and Fseonies are a foot or more 
high, ^ all LietL of rich red colouring. It is a 
good plan, when they are in beds or large groups, to 
plant the dark-flowered Wallflowers among them, their 
colour making a rich harmony with the reds of the 
young Paeony growths. 

There are balmy days in mid -April, when the 
whole garden is fragrant with Sweetbriar. It is not 
*' fast of its smell," as Bacon says of the damask rose, 
but gives it so lavishly that one cannot pass near a 
plant without being aware of its gracious presence. 
Passing upward through the copse, the warm air draws 
a fragrance almost as sweet, but infinitely more subtle, 
from the fresh green of the young birches ; it is like 
a distant whiff of Lily of the Valley. BQgher still 
the young leafage of the larches gives a delightful 
perfume of the same kind. It seems as if it were the 
office of these mountain trees, already nearest the 
high heaven, to offer an incense of praise for their 
new life. 

Few plants will grow under Scotch fir, but a 
notable exception is the Whortleberry, now a sheet of 
brilliant green, and full of its arbutus-like, pink-tinged 


flower. This plant also has a pleasant scent m the 
mass, difficult to localise, but coming in whi& as it 

The snowy Mespilus (AmelaneTieir) shows like puffs 
of smoke among the firs and birches, full of its milk- 
white, cherry-like bloom — a true woodland shrub or 
small tree. It loves to grow in a thicket of other 
trees, and to fling its graceful sprays about through 
their branches. It is a doubtful native, but naturalised 
and plentiful in the neighbouring woods. As seen in 
gardens, it is usually a neat little tree of shapely form, 
but it is more beautiful when growing at its own will 
in the high woods. 

Marshy hollows in the valleys are brilliant with 
Marsh Marigold {Caltha palvstria) ; damp meadows 
have them in plenty, but they are largest and hand- 
somest in the alder-swamps of our valley bottoms, 
where their great luscious clumps rise out of pools of 
black mud and water. 

Adonis vemalia is one of the brightest flowers of the 
middle of April, the flowers looking large for the size 
of the plant. The bright-yellow, mostly eight-petalled, 
blooms are comfortably seated in dense, fennel-like 
masses of foliage. It makes strong tufts, that are the 
better for division every four years. The spring Bitter- 
vetch {Orobus vermis) blooms at the same time, a re- 
markably clean-looking plant, with its cheerful red and 
purple blossom and handsomely divided leaves. It is 
one of the toughest of plants to divide, the mass of 


black root is like so much wire. It is a good plan with 
plants that have such roots, when dividing-time comes, 
to take the clumps to a strong bench or block and cut 
them through at the crown with a sharp cold-chisel 
and hammer. Another of the showiest families of 
plants of the time is Doronicum. D. AuUriacum is 
the earliest, but it is closely followed by the fine D, 
PlarUagineum, The large form of wood Forget-me-not 
{Myosotis 9ylvatica major) is in sheets of bloom, opening 
pink and changing to a perfect blue. This is a great 
improvement on the old smaller one. Grouped with 
it, as an mformal border, and in patches running 
through and among its clumps, is the Foam-flower 
(Tiarella cordifolia), whose flower in the mass looks 
like the wreaths of foam tossed aside by a mountain 
torrent. By the end of the month the Satin-leaf 
{Htuchera Bichardsoni) is pushing up its richly-coloured 
leaves, of a strong bronze-red, gradating to bronze- 
green at the outer edge. The beauty of the plant is 
in the colour and texture of the foliage. To encourage 
full leaf growth the flower stems should be pinched 
out, and as they push up rather persistently, they 
should be looked over every few days for about a 

The Primrose garden is now in beauty, but I have 
so much to say about it that I have given it a chapter 
to itself towards the end of the book. 

The Scotch firs are shedding their pollen ; a flower- 
ing branch shaken or struck with a stick throws out a 


pale-yellow cloucL Heavy rain will wash it out, so that 
after a storm the sides of the roads and paths look as 
if powdered sulphur had been washed up in drifts. 
The sun has gained great power, and on still bright 
days sharp snicking sounds are to be heard from the 
firs. The dry cones of last year are opening, and the 
flattened seeds with their paper-like edges are fluttering 
down. Another sound, much like it but just a shade 
sharper and more staccato, is heard from the Gorse 
bushes, whose dry pods are flying open and letting fall 
the hard, polished, little bean-like seeds. 

Border Auriculas are making a brave show. Nothing 
in the flower year is more interesting than a bed of good 
seedlings of the Alpine class. I know nothing better 
for pure beauty of varied colouring among early flowers. 
Except in varieties of Salpiglossis, such rich gradation 
of colour, from pale lilac to rich purple, and from rosy 
pink to deepest crimson, is hardly to be found in any 
one family of plants. There are varieties of cloudings 
of smoky-grey, sometimes approaching black, invading, 
and at the same time enhancing, the purer colours, and 
numbers of shades of half-tones of red and purple, such 
as are comprised within the term murrey of heraldry, 
and tender blooms of one colour, sulphurs and milk- 
whites — all with the admirable texture and excellent 
perfume that belong to the *' Bear's-ears " of old Eng- 
lish gardens. For practical purposes the florist's defi- 
nition of a good Auricula is of little value ; that is for 
the show-table, and, as Bacon says, ''Nothing to the 


true pleasure of a garden." The qualities to look for 
in the bed of seedlings are not the narrowing ones of 
proportion of eye to tube, of exact circle in the cir- 
cumference of the individual pip, and so on, but to 
notice whether the plant has a handsome look and 
stands up well, and is a delightful and beautiful thing 
as a whole. 

Tulips are the great garden flowers in the last week 
of April and earliest days of May. In this plant also 
the rule of the show-table is no sure guide to garden 
value ; for the show Tulip, beautiful though it is, is of 
one class alone — namely, the best of the *' broken " 
varieties of the self-coloured seedlings called "breeders.'' 
These seedlings, after some years of cultivation, change 
or ''break" into a variation in which the original col- 
ourmg is only retained in certain flames or feathers of 
colour, on a ground of either white or yellow. If the 
flames in each petal are symmetrical and well arranged^ 
according to the rules laid down by the florist, it is a 
good flower ; it receives a name, and commands a cer- 
tain price, If, on the other hand, the markings are 
irregular, however beautiful the colouring, the flower is 
comparatively worthless, and is *' thrown into mixture." 
The kinds that are the grandest in gardens are ignored 
by the florist. One of the best for graceful and delicate 
beauty is Tviipa retroflexa, of a soft lemon-yellow colour, 
and twisted and curled petals; then Silver Crown, a 
white flower with a delicate picotee-like thread of 
scarlet along the edge of the sharply pointed and 


reflexed petals. A variety of this called Sulphur Crown 
is only a little less beautiful. Then there is Golden 
Crown, also with pointed petals and occasional thread- 
ings of scarlet. Nothing is more gorgeous than the 
noble Oemeriana major, with its great chalice of crim- 
son-scarlet and pools of blue in the inner base of each 
petal. The gorgeously flamed Parrot TuUps are in- 
dispensable, and the large double Yellow Rose, and 
the early double white La Candour. Of the later 
kinds there are many of splendid colouring and noble 
port; conspicuous among them are Heine d'Espaguve^ 
Couleur de vin, and Bleu celeste. There are beautiful 
colourings of scarlet, crimson, yellow, chocolate, and 
purple among the " breeders," as well as among the 
so-called Uzarres and hyUoemen that comprise the show 

The best thing now in the rock-garden is a patch 
of some twenty plants of Amebia echinoides, always 
happy in our poor, dry soil. It is of the Borage family, 
a native of Armenia. It flowers in single or double- 
branching spikes of closely-set flowers of a fine yellow. 
Just below each indentation of the five-lobed corolla 
is a spot which looks black by contrast, but is of a 
very dark, rich, velvety brown. The day after the 
flower has expanded the spot has faded to a moderate 
brown, the next day to a faint tinge, and on the fourth 
day it is gone. The legend, accounting for the spots, 
sa}^s that Mahomet touched the flower with the tips of 
his fingers, hence its English name of Prophet-flower. 


The upper parts of the rock-garden that are 
beyond hand- reach are planted with dwarf shrubs, 
many of them sweetly scented either as to leaf or 
flower — OavltherioB, Sweet Gale, Alpine Rhododendron, 
Skimmias, PemettyaSy Ledums, and hardy Daphnes. 
Daphne porUica now gives oflf delicious wafts of 
fragrance, intensely sweet in the evening. 

In March and April Daffodils are the great 
flowers for house decoration, coming directly after 
the Lent Hellebores. Many people think these beauti- 
ful late-flowering Hellebores useless for cutting because 
they live badly in water. But if properly prepared 
they live quite well, and will remain ten days in 
beauty. Directly they are cut, and immediately before 
putting in water, the stalks should be slit up three 
or four inches, or according to their length, and then 
put in deep, so that the water comes nearly up to the 
flowers; and so they should remain, in a cool place, 
for some hours, or for a whole night, after which they 
can be arranged for the room. Most of them are 
inclined to droop; it is the habit of the plant in 
growth; this may be corrected by arranging them 
with something stiff like Box or Berberis. 

Anemone fvigens is a grand cutting flower, and looks 
well with its own leaves only or with flowering twigs 
of Laurustinus. Then there are Pansies, deUghtful 
things in a room, but they should be cut in whole 
branches of leafy stem and flower and bud. At first 
the growths are short and only suit dish-shaped things, 


but as the season goes on they grow longer and bolder, 
and graduate first into bowls and then into upright 
glasses. I think Pansies are always best without 
mixture of other flowers, and in separate colours, or 
only in such varied tints as make harmonies of one 
class of colour at a time. 

The big yellow and white bunch Primroses are 
delightful room flowers, beautiful, and of sweetest scent. 
When full-grown the flower-stalks are ten inches long 
and more. Among the seedlings there are always a 
certain number that are worthless. These are pounced 
upon as soon as they show their bloom, and cut up 
for greenery to go with the cut flowers, leaving the 
root-stock with all its middle foliage, and cutting away 
the roots and any rough outside leaves. 

When the first Daffodils are out and suitable 
greenery is not abundant in the garden (for it does 
not do to cut their own blades), I bring home hand- 
fuls of the wild Arum leaves, so common in roadside 
hedges, grasping the whole plant close to the ground ; 
then a steady pull breaks it away from the tuber, and 
you have a fine long-stalked sheaf of leafage held 
together by its own undergroimd stem. This should be 
prepared like the Lent Hellebores, by putting it deep in 
water for a time. I always think the trumpet Daffodils 
look better with this than with any other kind of foliage. 
When the wild Arum is full-grown the leaves are so 
large and handsome that they do quite well to ac- 
company the white Arum flowers from the greenhouse. 



Cowslips — Morells — Woodraff — Felling oak timber— Trillium and 
other wood-plants — Lily of the Valley naturalised — Rock-waU 
flowers — Two good wall-shrubs — Queen wasps — Rhododen- 
drons — Arrangement for colour — Separate colour-groups — 
Difficulty of choosing — Hardy Azaleas — Qrouping flowers that 
bloom together — Guelder-rose as climber — The garden-wall 
door — ^The Pceony garden — Moutans — Pseony varieties — Species 
desirable for garden. 

While May is still young, Cowslips are in beauty on 
the chalk lands a few miles distant, but yet within 
pleasant reach. They are finest of all in orchards, 
where the grass grows tall and strong under the half- 
shade of the old apple-trees, some of the later kinds 
being still loaded with bloom. The blooming of the 
Cowslip is the signal for a search for the Morell, one of 
the very best of the edible fungL It grows in open 
woods or where the undergrowth has not yet grown 
high, and frequently in old parks and pastures near or 
under elms. It is quite unlike any other fungus ; 
shaped like a tall egg, with the pointed end upwards, 
on a short, hollow stalk, and looking something like a 
sponge. It has a deUcate and excellent flavour, and is 
perfectly wholesome. 



The pretty little Woodruff is in flower ; what scent 
is so delicate as that of its leaves ? They are almost 
sweeter when dried, each little whorl by itself, with the 
stalk cut closely away above and below. It is a plea- 
sant surprise to come upon these fragrant little stars 
between the leaves of a book The whole plant revives 
memories of rambles in Bavarian woodlands, and of Mai- 
trank, that best of th*e " cup " tribe of pleasant drinks, 
whose flavour is borrowed from its flowering tips. 

In the first week in May oak-timber is being felled 
The wood is handsomer, from showing the grain better, 
when it is felled in the winter, but it is delayed till 
now because of the value of the bark for tanning, and 
just now the fast-rising sap makes the bark strip easily. 
A heavy fall is taking place in the fringes of a large 
wood of old Scotch fir. Where the oaks grow there is 
a blue carpet of wild Hyacinth ; the pathway is a 
slightly hollowed lane, so that the whole sheet of 
flower right and lefb is nearly on a level with the eye, 
and looks like solid pools of blue. The oaks not yet 
felled are putting forth their leaves of golden bronze. 
The song of the nightingale and the ring of the wood- 
man's axe gain a rich musical quality from the great 
fir wood. Why a wood of Scotch fir has this wonder- 
ful property of a kind of musical reverberation I do not 
know ; but so it is. Any sound that occurs within it 
is, on a lesser scale, like a sound in a cathedral. The 
tree itself when struck gives a musical note. Strike 
an oak or an elm on the trunk with a stick, and the 

E Wild Garden. 

MAY 61 

sound is mute ; strike a Scotch fir, and it is a note of 

In the copse are some prosperous patches of the 
beautiful North American Wood-lily (Trillium grandi- 
Jlorum). It likes a bed of deep leaf-soil on levels or 
cool slopes in woodland, where its large white flowers 
and whorls of handsome leaves look quite at home. 
Beyond it are widely spreading patches of Solomon's 
Seal and tufts of the Wood-rush (ZtiziUa sylvcUica), 
showing by their happy vigour how well they like 
their places, while the natural woodland carpet of moss 
and dead leaves puts the whole together. Higher in 
copse the path runs through stretches of the pretty 
little Smiladna bi/olia, and the ground beyond this is 
a thick bed of Whortleberry, filling all the upper part 
of the copse under oak and birch and Scotch fir. The 
little flower-bells of the Whortleberry have already 
given place to the just-formed fruit, which will ripen 
in July, and be a fine feast for the blackbirds. 

Other parts of the copse, where there was no Heath 
or Whortleberry, were planted thinly with the large 
Lily of the Valley. It has spread and increased and 
become broad sheets of leaf and bloom, from which 
thousands of flowers can be gathered without making 
gaps, or showing that any have been removed ; when 
the bloom is over the leaves still stand in handsome 
masses till they are hidden by the fast-growing bracken. 
They do not hurt each other, as it seems that the Lily 
of the Valley, having the roots running just xmder- 


ground, while the fern-roots are much deeper, the two 
occupy their respective strata in perfect good fellow- 
ship. The neat little Smilacvn/i is a near relation of 
the Lily of the Valley ; its leaves are of an even more 
vivid green, and its Uttle modest spikes of white flower 
are charming. It loves the poor, sandy soil, and in- 
creases in it fast, but will have nothing to say to clay. 
A very delicate and beautiful North American fern 
(Dicksonia ptmctilobiUata) proves a good colonist in the 
copse. It spreads rapidly by creeping roots, and looks 
much like our native Thdipteris, but is of a paler green 
colour. In the rock-garden the brightest patches of 
bloom are shown by the tufts of dwarf Wallflowers ; 
of these, ChevrarUhus alpinus has a strong lemon colour 
that is of great brilliancy in the mass, and (7. Marshalli 
is of a dark orange colour, equally powerful The 
curiously-tinted (7. mtUabilis, as its name implies, 
changes from a light mahogany colour when just 
open, first to crimson and then to purple. In length 
of life C. alpinus and C. Marshalli are rather more 
than biennials, and yet too short-lived to be called 
true perennials ; cuttings of one year flower the next, 
and are handsome tufts the year after, but are scarcely 
worth keeping longer. C. mviahUis is longer lived, 
especially if the older growths are cut right away, 
when the tuft will generally spring into vigorous new 

Orobvs aurantiacvs is a beautiful plant not enough 
grown, one of the handsomest of the Pea family. 

MAY 68 

vrith flowers of a fine orange colour, and foliage of 
a healthy-looking golden-green. A striking and hand- 
some plant in the upper part of the rockery is Othanna 
ehdrifolia ; its aspect is unusual and interesting, with 
its bunches of thick, blunt-edged leaves of blue-grey 
colouring, and large yellow daisy flowers. There is a 
pretty group of the large white Thrift, and near it a 
spreading carpet of blue Veronica and some of the 
splendid gentian-blue Pkcucelia campamUaria, a valuable 
annual for filling any bare patches of rockery where 
its brilliant colouring will suit the neighbouring plants, 
or, best of aU. in patches among dwarf ferns, where its 
vivid blue would be seen to great advantage. 

Two wall-shrubs have been conspicuously beautiful 
during May; the Mexican Orange-flower {Choisya ter- 
nata) has been smothered in its white bloom, so closely 
resembling orange-blossom. With a slight winter pro- 
tection of fir boughs it seems quite at home in our hot, 
dry. sou, grows fast, and is very easy to propagate by 
layers. When cut, it lasts for more than a week in 
water. Piptanthiis nepdUrms has also made a hand- 
some show, with its abundant yellow, pea-shaped 
bloom and deep-green trefoil leaves. The dark-green 
stems have a sUght bloom on a half-polished surface, 
and a pale ring at each joint gives them somewhat the 
look of bamboos. 

Now is the time to look out for the big queen 
wasps and to destroy as many as possible. They seem 
to be specially fond of the flowers of two plants, the 


large perennial Cornflower {Centaurea montana) and the 
common Gotoneaster. I have often secured a dozen in 
a few minutes on one or other of these plants, first 
knocking them down with a battledore. 

Now, in the third week of May, Rhododendrons 
are in full bloom on the edge of the copse. The plan- 
tation was made about nine years ago, in one of the 
regions where lawn and garden were to' join the wood. 
During the previous blooming season the best nurseries, 
were visited and careful observations made of colour- 
ing, habit, and time of blooming. The space they 
were to fill demanded about seventy bushes, allowing 
an average of eight feet from plant to plant— not 
seventy different kinds, but, perhaps, ten of one kind,, 
and two or three fives, and some threes, and a few 
single plants, always bearing in mind the ultimate 
intention of pictorial aspect as a whole. In choosing^ 
the plants and in arranging and disposing the groups- 
these ideas were kept in mind : to make pleasant ways, 
from lawn to copse ; to group only in beautiful colour 
harmonies ; to choose varieties beautiful in themselves ; 
to plant thoroughly well, and to avoid overcrowding. 
Plantations of these grand shrubs are generally spoilt 
or ineffective, if not absolutely jarring, for want of 
attention to these simple rules. The choice of kinds- 
is now so large, and the variety of colouring so exten- 
sive, that nothing can be easier than to make beautiful 
combinations, if intending planters will only take the 
small amoimt of preliminary trouble that is needful. 

MAY 65 

Some of the clumps are of brilliant scarlet-crimson, rose 

and white, but out of the great choice of colours that 

might be so named only those are chosen that make 

just the colour-harmony that was intended. A large 

group, quite detached from this one, and more in the 

shade of the copse, is of the best of the lilacs, purples, 

and whites. When some clumps of yoimg hollies 

have grown, those two groups will not be seen at the 

same time, except from a distance. The purple and 

white group is at present rather the handsomest, from 

the free-growing habit of the fine old kind Album elegaTis, 

which forms towering masses at the back. A detail 

of pictorial effect that was aimed at, and that has 

come out well, was devised in the expectation that 

the purple groups would look richer in the shade, and 

the crimson ones in the sun. This arrangement has 

answered admirably. Before planting, the ground, of 

the poorest quality possible, was deeply trenched, and 

the Rhododendrons were planted in wide holes filled 

with peat, and finished with a comfortable " mulch," or 

surface - covering of farmyard manure. From this a 

supply of grateful nutriment was gradually washed 

in to the roots. This beneficial surface-dressing was 

renewed every year for two years after planting, and 

even longer in the case of the slower growing kinds. 

No plant better repays care during its early years. 

Broad grass paths leading from the lawn at several 

points pass among the clumps, and are continued 

through the upper parts of the copse, passing through 



2ones of different trees ; first a good stretch of birch 
and holly, then of Spanish chestnut, next of oak, 
and finally of Scotch fir, with a sprinkling of birch and 
mountain ash, all with an undergrowth of heath and 
whortleberry and bracken. Thirty years ago it was 
all a wood of old Scotch fir. This was cut at its best 
marketable maturity, and the present young wood is 
made of what came up self-sown. This natural wild 
growth was thick enough to allow of vigorous cutting 
out, and the preponderance of firs in the upper part 
and of birch in the lower suggested that these were 
the kinds that should predominate in their respective 

It may be useful to describe a Uttle more in detail 
the plan I followed in grouping Rhododendrons, for I 
feel sure that any one with a feeling for harmonious 
oolouring, having once seen or tried some such plan, 
will never again approve of the haphazard mixtures. 
There may be better varieties representing the colour- 
ings aimed at i|j^ the several groups, but those named 
are ones that I know, and they will serve as well as 
any others to show what is meant. 

The colourings seem to group themselves into six 
<;lasses of easy harmonies, which I venture to describe 
thus: — 

1. Crimsons inclining to scarlet or blood-colour 
^ouped with dark claret-colour and true pink. 

In this group I have planted Nigrescens, dark 
olaret-colour ; John Waterer and James Marshall Brook, 

MAY 67 

both fine red-crimsons; Alexander Adie and Atrosan- 
guineum, good crimsons, inclining to blood-colour; 
Alarm, rosy-scarlet ; and Bianchi, pure pink. 

2. Light scarlet rose colours inclining to salmon, a 
most desirable range of colour, but of which the only 
ones I know well are Mrs. B. S. Holford, and a much 
older kind, Lady Eleanor Cathcart. These I put by 
themselves, only allowing rather near them the good 
pink Bianchi 

3. Bose colours inclining to amaranth. 

4. Amaranths or magenta-crimsons. 

5. Crimson or amaranth-purples. 

6. Cool clear purples of the typical ponticmn class, 
both dark and light, grouped with lilac-whites, such as 
Album elegans and Album grandiflorum. The beauti- 
ful partly-double Everestianum comes into this group, 
but nothing redder among purples. Fastuosum flore- 
pkno is also admitted, and LtLcifervm and Heine Hor- 
tense, both good lilac-whites. But the purples that 
are most effective are merely porUicum seedlings, chosen 
when in bloom in the nursery for their depth and rich- 
ness of cool purple colour. 

My own space being limited, I chose three of the 
above groups only, leaving out, as of colouring less 
pleasing to my personal liking, groups 3, 4, and 5. 
The remainmg ones gave me examples of colouring the 
most widely different, and at the same time the most 
agreeable to my individual taste. It would have been 
easier, if that had been the object, to have made groups 


of the three other classes of colouring, which comprise 
by far the largest number of the splendid varieties now 
grown. There are a great many beautiful whites ; of 
these, two that I most admire are Madame Carvalho 
and Sappho ; the latter is an immense flower, with a 
conspicuous purple blotch. There is also a grand old 
kind called Minnie, a very large-growing one, with fine 
white trusses; and a dwarf-growing white that comes 
early into bloom is Cunningham's White, also useful for 
forcing, as it is a small plant, and a free bloomer. 

Nothing is more perplexing than to judge of the 
relative merits of colours in a Rhododendron nursery, 
where they are all mixed up. I have twice been 
specially to look for varieties of a true pink colour, but 
the quantity of untrue pinks is so great that anything 
approaching a clear pink looks much better than it is. 
In this way I chose Kate Waterer and Sylph, both 
splendid varieties; but when I grew them with my 
true pink Bianchi they would not do, the colour having 
the suspicion of rank quality that I wished to keep 
out of that group. This same Bianchi, with its mon- 
grel-sounding name, I found was not grown in the 
larger nurseries. I had it from Messrs. Maurice Yoimg, 
of the Milford Nurseries, near Grodalming. I regretted 
to hear lately from some one to whom I recommended 
it that it could not be supplied. It is to be hoped that 
so good a thing has not been lost 

A little way from the main Rhododendron clumps, 
and among bushy Andromedas, I have the splendid 

MAY 69 

hybrid of -R. AiicHandi, raised by Mr. A. Waterer 
The trusses are astoundmgly large, and the indi- 
vidual blooms large and delicately beautiful, like 
small richly-modelled lilies of a tender, warm, white 
colour. It is quite hardy south of London, and un- 
questionably desirable. Its only fault is leggy growth ; 
one year's growth measures twenty-three inches, but 
this only means that it should be planted among other 

The last days of May see hardy Azaleas in beauty 
Any of them may be planted in company, for all their 
colours harmonise. In this garden, where care is taken 
to group plants well for colour, the whi tes are planted 
at the lower and more shady end of the group ; next 
come the pale yellows and pale pinks, and these are 
followed at a little distance by kinds whose flowers are 
of orange, copper, flame, and scarlet-crimson colour- 
ings; this strong-coloured group again softening off 
at the upper end by strong yellows, and dying away 
into the woodland by bushes of the common yellow 
Azalea poniica, and its variety with flowers of larger 
size and deeper colour. The plantation is long in 
shape, straggling over a space of about half an acre, 
the largest and strongest -coloured group being in 
an open clearing about midway in the length. The 
groimd between them is covered with a natural growth 
of the wild Ling (Calluna) and Whortleberry, and the 
small, white-flowered Bed-straw, with the fine-bladed 
Sheep's-fescue grass, the kind most abundant in heath- 


land The surrounding ground is copse, of a wild, 
forest-like character, of birch and small oak. A wood- 
path of wild heath cut short winds through the planted 
group, which also comprises some of the beautiful 
white - flowered Califomian Azalea occidentalism and 
bushes of some of the North American Yacciniums. 

Azaleas should never be planted among or even 
within sight of Rhododendrons. Though both enjoy 
a moist peat soil, and have a near botanical relation- 
ship, they are incongruous in appearance, and impossible 
to group together for colour. This must be understood 
to apply to the two classes of plants of the hardy 
kinds, as commonly grown in gardens. There are 
tender kinds of the East Indian families that are quite 
harmonious, but those now in question are the ordinary 
varieties of so-called Ohent Azaleas, and the hardy 
hybrid Rhododendrons. In the case of small gardens, 
where there is only room for one bed or clump of peat 
plants, it would be better to have a group of either 
one or the other of these plants, rather than spoil the 
effect by the inharmoniotus mixture of both. 

I always think it desirable to group together 
flowers that bloom at the same time. It is impossible, 
and even imdesirable, to have a garden in blossom all 
over, and groups of flower-beauty are all the more en- 
joyable for being more or less isolated by stretches of 
intervening greenery. As one lovely group for May I 
recommend Moutan Psebny and Clematis montana, the 
Clematis on a wall low enough to let its wreaths of 

MAY 71 

bloom show near the Pseony. The old Guelder Rose 
or Snowball-tree is beautiful anywhere, but I think it 
best of all on the cold side of a wall. Of course it is 
perfectly hardy, and a bush of strong, sturdy growth,, 
and has no need of the wall either for support or for 
shelter ; but I am for clothing the garden walls with 
all the prettiest things they can wear, and no shrub I 
know makes a better show. Moreover, as there is 
necessarily less wood in a flat wall tree than in a round 
bush, and as the front shoots must be pruned close 
back, it foUows that much more strength is thrown into 
the remaining wood, and the blooms are much larger. 

I have a north wall eleven feet high, with a Guel- 
der Bose on each side of a doorway, and a Clematis 
morUana that is trained on the top of the whole. The 
two flower at the same time, their growths mingling 
in friendly fashion, while their unlikeness of habit 
makes the companionship all the more interesting. 
The Guelder Rose is a stiff- wooded thing, the character 
of its main stems being a kind of stark uprightness, 
though the great white balls hang out with a certain 
freedom from the newly-grown shoots. The Clematis 
meets it with an exactly opposite way of growth, 
swinging down its great swags of many-flowered gar- 
land masses into the head of its companion, with here 
and there a single flowering streamer making a tiny 
wreath on its own accoimt. 

On the southern sides of the same gateway are two 
largo bushes of the Mexican Orange-flower {Choisycu 


terncUa), loaded with its orange-like bloom. Buttresses 
flank the doorway on this side, dying away into the 
general thickness of the wall above the arch by a 
kind of roofing of broad flat stones that lay back at 
an easy pitch. In mossy hollows at their joints and 
angles, some tufts of Thrift and of Uttle Bock Pinks have 
found a home, and show as tenderly-coloured tufts of 
rather dull pink bloom. Above all is the same white 
Clematis, some of its abundant growth having been 
trained over the south side, so that this one plant plays 
a somewhat important part in two garden-scenes. 

Through the gateway again, beyond the wall 
northward and partly within its shade, is a portion 
of ground devoted to Paeonies, in shape a long triangle, 
whose proportion in length is about thrice its breadth 
measured at the widest end. A low cross-wall, five 
feet high, divides it nearly in half near the Guelder 
Boses, and it is walled again on the other long side 
of the triangle by a rough structure of stone and earth, 
which, in compliment to its appearance, we call the 
Old Wall, of which I shall have something to say 
later. Thus the Paeonies are protected all round, 
for they like a sheltered place, and the Moutans do 
best with even a little passing shade at some time 
of the day. Moutan is the Chinese name for Tree 
PsBony. For an immense hardy flower of beautiful 
colouring what can equal the salmon-rose Moutan 
Beine Elizabeth? Among the others that I have, 
those that give me most pleasure are Baronne d'Al^ 

{ Clbhatis Montana and Choisva. 

ME Door, with Clematis Montana 


MAY 73 

and Comtesse de Tuder, both pinks of a delightful 
quality, and a lovely white called Bijou de Chusan. 
The Tree Pseonies are also beautiful in leaf; the indi- 
vidual leaves are large and important, and so carried 
that they are well displayed. Their colour is peculiar, 
being bluish, but pervaded with a suspicion of pink 
or pinkish-bronze, sometimes of a metallic quality that 
faintly recalls some of the variously-coloured alloys of 
metal that the Japanese bronze- workers make and use 
with such consummate skill. 

It is a matter of regret that varieties of the better 
kinds of Moutans are not generally grown on their own 
roots, and still more so that the stock in common use 
should not even be the type Tree Paeony, but one of 
the herbaceous kinds, so that we have plants of a hard- 
wooded shrub worked on a thing as soft as a Dahlia 
root. This is probably the reason why they are so diffi- 
cult to establish, and so slow to grow, especially on light 
soils, even when their beds have been made deep and 
liberally enriched with what one judges to be the most 
gratifying comfort. Every now and then, just before 
blooming time, a plant goes off all at once, smitten 
with sudden death. At the time of making my col- 
lection I was unable to visit the French nurseries where 
these plants are so admirably grown, and whence most 
of the best kinds have come. I had to choose them 
by the catalogue description — always an unsatisfactory 
way to any one with a keen eye for colour, although 
in this matter the compilers of foreign catalogues are 



certamly less vague than those of our own. Many of 
the plants therefore had to be shifted into better 
groups for colour after their iSrst blooming, a matter 
the more to be regretted as Pseonies dislike being 

The other half of the triangular bit of Pseony ground 
— the pointed end — is given to the kinds I like best 
of the large June-flowered Pseonies, the garden varieties 
of the Siberian P. aibiflora^ popularly known as Chinese 
Pseonies. Though among these, as is the case with 
all the kinds, there is a preponderance of pink or rose- 
crimson colouring of a decidedly rank quality, yet the 
number of varieties is so great, that among the minority 
of really good colouring there are plenty to choose 
from, including a good niunber of beautiful whites and 
whites tinged with yellow. Of those I have, the kinds 
I like best are — 

Hypatia, pink. 

Madame Benare, salmon-rose. 
The Queen, pale salmon-rose. 
L^onie, salmon-rose. 
Virginie, warm white. 
Solfaterre, pale yellow. 
Edouard Andr6, deep claret 
Madame Calot, flesh pink. 
Madame Br^on. 
Alba sulfurea. 
Triomphans gandavensis. 
Camea elegans (Guerin). 
Curiosa, pink and blush. 

Prince Pierre Galitzin, blush. 

Eugenie Verdier, pale pink. 

Elegans superbissima, yellowish- 

Virgo Maria, white. 

PhilomMe, blush. 

Madame Dhour, rose. 

Duchesse de Nemours, yellow- 


Belle Donaisienne. 

Jeanne d'Arc. 

Marie Lemonie. 

Many of the lovely flowers in this class have a rather 

MAT 75 

strong, sweet smell, something like a mixture of the 
scents of Rose and Tulip. 

Then there are the old garden Pseonies, the double 
varieties of P, ojffvdncdis. They are in three distinct 
colourings — ^full rich crimson, crimson-rose, and pale 
pink changing to dull white. These are the earUest to 
flower, and with them it is convenient, from the garden 
point of view, to class some of the desirable species. 

Some years ago my friend Mr. Barr kindly gave 
me a set of the Pseony species as grown by him. I 
wished to have them, not for the sake of making a 
collection, but in order to see which were the ones 
I should like best to grow as garden flowers. In 
due time they grew into strong plants and flowered. 
A good many had to be condenmed because of the 
raw magenta colour of the bloom, one or two only 
that had this defect being reprieved on account of 
their handsome foUage and habit. Prominent among 
these was P. decora, with bluish foliage handsomely 
displayed, the whole plant looking strong and neat 
and well-dressed. Others whose flower-colour I cannot 
commend, but that seemed worth growing on account 
of their rich masses of handsome foliage, are P. trUemata 
and P. Broteri. Though small in size, the light red 
flower of P. lobata is of a beautiful colour. P. tenuifolia, 
in both single and double fonn, is an old garden 
favourite. P. Wittmanniana, with its yellow-green 
leave sand tender yellow flower, is a gem ; but it la 
rather rare, and probably uncertain, for mine, alasl 


had no sooner grown into a fine cliunp than it 
suddenly died. 

All Pseonies are strong feeders. Their beds should 
be deeply and richly prepared, and in later years they 
are grateful for liberal gifts of manure, both as surface 
dressings and waterings. 

Friends often ask me vaguely about Pseonies, and 
when I say, " What kind of Pseonies ? " they have not the 
least idea. 

Broadly, and for garden purposes, one may put them 
into three classes — 

1. Tree Pseonies (P. motUan), shrubby, flowering 
in May. 

2. Chinese Pseonies (P. albiflora), herbaceous, flower- 
ing in June. 

8. Old garden Pseonies (P. officinalis), herbaceous, 
including some other herbaceous species. 

I find it convenient to grow Pseony species and 
Caulescent (Lent) Hellebores together. They are in 
a wide border on the north side of the high wall and 
partly shaded by it. They are agreed in their liking 
for deeply- worked ground with an admixture of loam 
and lime, for shelter, and for rich feeding; aud the 
Paeony clumps, set, as it were, in picture firames of the 
lower-growing Hellebores, are seen to all the more 



Tbe gladness of June — The time of Roses — Garden Roses — Reine 
Blanche — ^The old white Rose — Old garden Roses as standards 
— ^Climbing and rambling Roses — Scotch Briars — Hybrid Per- 
petuals a difficulty — Tea Roses — Pruning — Sweet Peas, 
autumn sown — Elder- trees — Virginian Cowslip — Dividing 
spring-blooming plants — ^Two best Mulleins — White French 
WiUow — Bracken. 

What is one to say about June — the time of perfect 
young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the 
earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one 
that its jfresh young beauty will ever fade ? For my 
own part I wander up into the wood and say, '* June 
is here — Jime is here ; thank God for lovely Jime ! " 
The soft cooing of the wood-dove, the glad song of 
many birds, the flitting of butterflies, the hum of all 
the little winged people among the branches, the sweet 
earth-scents — all seem to say the same, with an end- 
less reiteration, never wearying because so gladsome. 
It is the offering of the Hymn of Praise ! The lizards 
run in and out of the heathy tufts in the hot sunshine, 
andlas the long day darkens the night-jar trolls out 
his strange song, so welcome because it is the prelude 



to the perfect summer night ; here and there a glow- 
worm shows its little lamp. June is here — June is 
here ; thank God for lovely June ! 

And June is the time of Roses. I have great 
delight in the best of the old garden Roses ; the Pro- 
Tence (Cabbage Rose), sweetest of all sweets, and the 
Moss Rose, its crested variety ; the early Damask, and 
its red and white striped kind ; the old, nearly single, 
Reine Blanche. I do not know the origin of this 
charming Rose, but by its appearance it should be 
related to the Damask. A good many years ago I 
came upon it in a cottage garden in Sussex, and 
thought I had foimd a white Damask. The white is 
a creamy white, the outsides of the outer petals are 
stained with red, first showing clearly in the bud. 
The scent is delicate and delightful, with a faint 
suspicion of Magnolia. A few years ago this pretty 
old Rose found its way to one of the meetings of the 
Royal Horticultural Society, where it gained much 
praise. It was there that I recognised my old fiiend, 
and learned its name. 

I am fond of the old Bosa alba, both single and 
double, and its daughter. Maiden's Blush. How seldom 
one sees these Roses except in cottage gardens ; but 
what good taste it shows on the cottager's part, for 
what Rose is so perfectly at home upon the modest 
little wajTside porch ? 

I have also learnt from cottage gardens how pretty 
are some of the old Roses grown as standards. The 

JUNE 79 

picture of my neighbour, Mrs. Edgeler, picking me a 
bunch from her bush, shows how ifreely they flower, 
and what fine standards they make. I have taken the 
hint, and have now some big round-headed standards, 
the heads a yard through, of the lovely Celeste and of 
Madame Plantier, that are worth looking at, though 
one of them is rather badly-shaped this year, for my 
handsome Jack (donkey) ate one side of it when he 
wad waiting outside the studio door, while his cart-load 
of logs for the ingle fire was being unloaded. 

What a fine thing, among the cluster Roses, is the 
old Dundee Rambler ! I trained one to go up a rather 
upright green HoUy about twenty-five feet high, and 
now it has rushed up and tumbles out at the top and 
sides in masses of its pretty bloom. It is just as good 
grown as a '' fountain," giving it a free space where it 
can spread at will with no training or support what- 
ever. These two ways I think are much the best for 
growing the free, rambling Roses. In the case of 
the fountain, the branches arch over and display the 
flowers to perfection; if you tie your Rose up to a 
tall post or train it over an arch or pergola, the birds 
flying overhead have the best of the show. The 
Oarland Rose, another old sort, is just as suitable for 
this kind of growth as Dundee Rambler, and the 
individual flowers, of a tender blush-colour, changing 
to white, are even more delicate and pretty. 

The newer Crimson Rambler is a noble plant for 
the same use, in sunlight gorgeous of bloom, and always 


brilliant with its glossy bright-green foliage. Of the 
many good plants from Japan, this is the best that 
has reached us of late years. The Himalayan Rosa 
Brunanii is loaded with its clusters of milk-white 
bloom, that are so perfectly in harmony with its very 
long, almost blue leaves. But of all the free-growing 
Roses, the most remarkable for rampant growth is B. 
Polyantha. One of the bushes in this garden covers a 
space thirty-four feet across — more than a hundred feet 
round. It forms a great fountain-like mass, covered 
with myriads of its small white flowers, whose scent is 
carried a considerable distance. Directly the flower is. 
over it throws up rods of yoimg growth eighteen to 
twenty feet long; as they mature they arch over, and 
next year their many short lateral shoots will be 
smothered with bloom. 

Two other Roses of free growth are also great 
favourites — Madame Alfred Carri^re, with long-stalked 
loose white flowers, and Emilie Plantier. I have them 
on an east fence, where they yield a large quantity of 
bloom for cutting ; indeed, they have been so useful in 
this way that I have planted several more, but this 
time for training down to an oak trellis, Uke the one 
that supports the row of Bouquet d'Or, in order to bring 
the flowers within easier reach. 

Now we look for the bloom of the Burnet Rose 
(Bom spinosissima), a lovely native plant, and its gardea 
varieties, the Scotch Briars. The wild plant is widely 
distributed in England, though somewhat locaL It 

Double White Scotch Brtar. 

JUNE 81 

grows on moors in Scotland/ and on Beachy Head in 
Sussex, and near Tenby in South Wales, favouring 
wild places within smell of the sea. The rather dusky 
foliage sets off the lemon-white of the wild, and the 
clear white, pink, rose, and pale yellow of the double 
garden kinds. The hips are large and handsome^ 
black and glossy, and the whole plant in late autumn 
assumes a fine bronzy colouring between ashy black 
and dusky red. Other small old garden Koses are 
coming into bloom. One of the most desirable, and 
very frequent in this district, is Bx>m lucida, with red 
stems, highly-polished leaves, and single, fragrant flowers 
of pure rosy-pink colour. The leaves turn a brilUant 
yellow in autumn, and after they have fallen the bushes 
are still bright with the coloured stems and the large 
clusters of bright-red hips. It is the St. Mark s Rose 
of Venice, where it is usually in flower on St. Mark's 
Day, April 25th. The double variety is the old Eose 
cPamour, now rare in gardens ; its half-expanded bud is 
perhaps the most daintily beautiful thing that any Rose 
can show. 

After many years of fruitless effort I have to allow 
that I am beaten in the attempt to grow the Grand 
Roses in the Hybrid Perpetual class. They plainly 
show their dislike to our dry hill, even when their 
beds are as well enriched as I can contrive or afford 
to make them. The rich loam that they love has to 
come many miles from the Weald by hilly roads in 
four-horse waggons, and the haulage is so costly that 



when it axrives I feel like distributing it with a spoon 
rather than with the spade. Moreover, even if a 
bed is filled with the precious loam, unless constantly 
watered the plants seem to feel and resent the two 
himdred feet of dry sand and rock that is under them 
before any moister stratum is reached. 

But the Tea Hoses are more accommodating, and do 
fairly well, though, of course, not so well as in a stiffer 
soil. If I were planting again I should grow a still 
larger proportion of the kinds I have now foimd to do 
best. Far beyond all others is Madame Lambard, good 
alike early and late, and beautiful at all times. In this 
garden it yields quite three times as much bloom as 
any other; nothing else can approach it either for 
beauty or bounty. Viscountess Folkestone, not properly 
a Tea, but classed among Hybrid Noisettes, is also free 
and beautiful and long-enduring ; and Papa Gontier, so 
like a deeper-coloured Lambard, is another favourite. 
Bouquet d'Or is here the strongest of the Dijon Teas. 
I grow it in several positions, but most conveniently on 
a strong bit of oak post and rail trellis, keeping the 
long growths tied down, and every two years cutting the 
oldest wood right out. It is well to remember that 
the tying or pegging down of Roses always makes them 
bloom better : every joint from end to end wants to 
make a good Rose ; if the shoots are more upright, the 
blooming strength goes more to the top. 

The pruning of Tea Roses is quite different firom 
the pruning required for the Hybrid Perpetuals. In 

? Rosa Polyantha. 

Garland-Rose, showing Natural Way of Growth. 

JUNE 83 

these the last year's growth is cut back m March to 
within two to five eyes from where it leaves the main 
branch, according to the strength of the kind. This 
must not be done with the Teas. With these the 
oldest wood is cut right out from the base, and the 
blooming shoots left full length. But it is well, to- 
wards the end of July or beginning of August, to cut 
back the ends of soft summer shoots in order to give 
them a chance of ripening what is left. When an old 
Tea looks worn out, if cut right down in March or 
April it will often throw out vigorous young growth, 
and quite renew its life. 

Within the first days of June we can generally 
pick some Sweet Peas from the rows sown in the 
second week of September. They are very much 
stronger than those sown in spring. By November 
they are four inches high, and seem to gain strength 
and sturdiness during the winter; for as soon as 
spring comes they shoot up with great vigour, and we 
know that the spray used to support them must be 
two feet higher than for those that are spring-sown. 
The flower-stalks are a foot long, and many have four 
flowers on a stalk. They are sown in shallow trenches ; 
in spring they are earthed up very sUghtly, but still 
with a Uttle trench at the base of the plants. A few 
doses of liquid manure are a great help when they are 
getting towards blooming strength. 

I am very fond of the Elder-tree. It is a sociable 
sort of thing; it seems to like to grow near human 


habitations. In my own mind it is certainly the tree 
most closely associated with the pretty old cottage and 
farm architecture of my part of the country ; no bush 
or tree, not even the apple, seems to group so well or 
so closely with farm buildings. When I built a long 
thatched shed for the many needs of the garden, in 
the region of pits and frames, compost, rubbish and 
bum-heap, I planted Elders close to the end of the 
building and on one side of the yard. They look just 
right, and are, moreover, every year loaded with their 
useful fruit. This is ripe quite early in September, and 
is made into Elder wine, to be drunk hot in winter, a 
comfort by no means to be despised. My trees now give 
enough for my own wants, and there are generally a few 
acceptable bushels to spare for my cottage neighbours. 
About the middle of the month the Virginian 
CowsUp (Mertensia virginica) begins to turn yellow 
before dying down. Now is the time to look out for 
the seeds. A few ripen on the plant, but most of them 
fall while green, and then ripen in a few days while 
lying on the ground. I shake the seeds carefully out, 
and leave them lying round the parent-plant ; a week 
later, when they will be ripe, they are lightly scratched 
into the ground. Some yoimg plants of last year's 
growth I mark with a bit of stick, in case of wanting 
some later to plant elsewhere, or to send away; the 
plant dies away completely, leaving no trace above 
ground, so that if not marked it would be difficult to 
find what is wanted. 

Lilac Marie Legrave. [See page 2^.) 

Flowering Elder a 

JUNE 86 

This is also the time for pulling to pieces and 
replenishing that good spring plant, the large variety 
of Myosotis disaitiflora ; I always make sure of divisions, 
as seed does not come true. Primula rosea should also 
be divided now, and planted to grow on in a cool place, 
such as the foot of a north or east wall, or be put at 
once in its place in some cool, rather moist spot in the 
rock-garden. Two-year-old plants come up with thick 
clumps of matted root that is now useless. I cut off 
the whole mass of old root about an inch below the 
crown, when it can easily be divided into nice little 
bits for replanting. Many other spring - flowering 
plants may with advantage be divided now, such as 
Aubrietia, Arabis, Auricula, Tiarella, and Saxifrage. 

The young Primrose plants, sown in March, have 
been planted out in their special garden, and are look- 
ing well after some genial rain. 

The great branching Mullein, Verhascum olympicum, 
is just going out of bloom, after making a brilliant 
display for a fortnight. It is followed by the other 
of the most useful tall, yellow-flowered kinds, V. pMo- 
moides. Both are seen at their best either quite early 
in the morning, or in the evening, or in half-shade, as, 
like all their kind, they do not expand their bloom in 
bright sunshine. Both are excellent plants on poor 
soils. F. olyrrvpicum, though classed as a biennial, does 
not come to flowering strength till it is three or four 
years old; but meanwhile the foliage is so handsome 
that even if there were no flower it would be a worthy 


garden plant. It does well in any waste spaces of poor 
soil, where, by having plants of all ages, there will be 
some to flower every year. The Mullein moth is sure 
to find them out, and it behoves the careful gardener 
to look for and destroy the caterpillars, or he may 
some day find, instead of his stately Mulleins, tall 
stems only clothed with unsightly grey rags. The 
caterpiUaxfl are easily caught when quite smaU or 
when rather large ; but midway in their growth, when 
three-quarters of an inch long, they are wary, and at 
the approach of the avenging gardener they will give 
a sudden wriggling jump, and roll down into the lower 
depths of the large foliage, where they are difficult to 
find. But by going round the plants twice a day for 
about a week they can all be discovered. 

The white variety of the French Willow (JEpUobivm 
angustifolivm) is a pretty plant in the edges of the 
copse, good both in sim and shade, and flourishing in 
any poor soil. In better groimd it grows too rank, 
running quickly at the root and invading all its neigh- 
bours, so that it should be planted with great caution ; 
but when grown on poor groimd it flowers at from two 
feet to four feet high, and its whole aspect is improved 
by the proportional amount of flower becoming much 

Towards the end of June the bracken that covers 
the greater part of the ground of the copse is in full 
beauty. No other manner of imdergrowth gives to 
woodland in so great a degree the true forest-like 

JUNE 87 

character. This most ancient plant speaks of the old, 
untouched land of which large stretches still remain 
in the south of England — land too poor to have been 
worth cultivating, and that has therefore for centuries 
endured human contempt In the early part of the 
present century, William Cobbett, in his delightful 
book, " Riural Rides," speaking of the heathy headlands 
and vast hollow of EQndhead, in Surrey, calls it " cer- 
tainly the most villainous spot Qod ever made." This 
gives expression to his view, as farmer and political 
economist, of such places as were incapable of culti- 
vation, and of the general feeling of the time about 
lonely roads in waste places, as the fields for the law- 
less labours of smuggler and highwayman. Now such 
tracts of natural wild beauty, clothed with stretches 
of Heath and Fern and Whortleberry, with beds of 
Sphagnum Moss, and little natural wild gardens of 
curious and beautiful sub-aquatic plants in the marshy 
hollows and undrained wastes, are treasured as such 
places deserve to be, especially when they still remain 
within fifty nules of a vast city. The height to which 
the bracken grows is a sure guide to the depth of soil. 
' On the poorest, thinnest groimd it only reaches a foot 
or two ; but in hollow places where leaf-mould ac- 
cumulates and surface soil has washed in and made a 
better depth, it grows from six feet to eight feet high> 
and when straggling up through bushes to get to the 
light a frond will sometimes measure as much as twelve 
feet. The old coimtry people who have always lived 


on the same poor land say, " Where the fam grows tall 
anything will grow " ; but that only means that there 
the ground is somewhat better and capable of cultiva- 
tion, as its presence is a sure indication of a sandy soiL 
The timber-merchants are shy of bujring oak trees 
felled from among it, the timber of trees grown on the 
wealden clay being so much better. 



Scardly of flowers— Delphiniums — Yuccas — Cottager's way of pro- 
tecting tender plants — Alstromerias — Carnations — Qypsophila 
— LUium gigantevm — Catting fern-pegs. 

After the wealth of bloom of June, there appear to 
be but few flowers in the garden ; there seems to be 
a time of comparative emptiness between the earlier 
flowers and those of autumn. It is true that in the 
early days of July we have Delphiniums, the grandest 
blues of the flower year. They are in two main 
groups in the flower border, one of them nearly all of 
the palest kind — not a solid cliunp, but with a thicker 
nucleus, thinning away for several yards right and 
left. Only white and pale-yellow flowers are grouped 
with this, and pale, fresh-looking foliage of maize and 
Funkia. The other group is at some distance, at the 
extreme western end. This is of the full and deeper 
blues, following a clump of Yuccas, and grouped about 
with things of important silvery foliage, such at Globe 
Artichoke and Silver Thistle (^Eryngium). I have 
found it satisfactory to grow Delphiniums from seed, 
choosing the fine strong " Cantab " as the seed-parent, 



because the flowers were of a medium colour — scarcely 
so light as the name would imply — and because of its 
vigorous habit and well-shaped spike. It produced 
flowers of all shades of blue, and from these were 
derived nearly all I have in the border. I found them 
better for the purpose in many cases than the named 
kinds of which I had a fair collection. 

The seedlings were well grown for two years in 
nursery lines, worthless ones being taken out as soon 
as they showed their character. There is one common 
defect that I cannot endure — an interrupted spike, 
when the flowers, having filled a good bit of the spike, 
leave off, leaving a space of bare stem, and then go on 
again. If this habit proves to be persistent after the 
two years' trial, the plant is condemned. For my 
liking the spike must be well filled, but not over- 
crowded. Many of the show kinds are too full for 
beauty ; the shape of the individual flower is lost. 
Some of the double ones are handsome, but in these 
the flower takes another shape, becoming more rosette- 
like, and thereby loses its original character. Some 
are of mixed colouring, a shade of lilac-pink sliding 
through pale blue. It is very beautiful in some cases, 
the respective tints remaining as clear as in an opal, 
but in many it only muddles the flower and makes it 

Delphiniums are greedy feeders, and pay for rich 
cultivation and for liberal manurial mulches and 
waterings. In a hot summer, if not well cared for^ 

JULY 91 

tli^y get stunted and are miserable objects, the flower 
distorted and cramped into a clumsy-looking, elongated 

Though weak in growth the old Delphinium Bella- 
donna has so lovely a quality of colour that it is quite 
indispensable ; the feeble stem should be carefully 
and unobtrusively staked for the better display of its 
incomparable blue. 

Some of the Yuccas will bloom before the end of 
tlie month. I have them in bold patches the whole 
fifteen-feet depth of the border at the extreme ends, 
and on each side of the pathway, where, passing from 
the lawn to the Pseony ground, it cuts across the 
border to go through the arched gateway. The kinds 
of Yucca are gloriosa, recurva, Jlacdda, and JUamentosa, 
They are good to look at at all times of the year 
because of their grand strong foliage, and are the glory 
of the garden when in flower. One of the gloriosa 
threw up a stout flower-spike in January. I had 
thought of protecting and roofing the spike, in the 
hope of carrying it safely through till spring, but 
meanwhile there came a damp day and a frosty night, 
and when I saw it again it was spoilt. The Yticea 
^filamerUosa that I have I was told by a trusty botamst 
was the true plant, but rather tender, the one com- 
monly called by that name beiQg something else. I 
found it in a cottage garden, where I learnt a useful 
lesson in protecting plants, namely, the use of thickly- 
cut peaty sods. The goodwife had noticed that the 


peaty ground of the adjoining common, covered with 
heath and gorse and mossy grass, resisted frost much 
better than the garden or meadow, and it had been 
her practice for many years to get some thick dry 
sods with the heath left on and to pack them close 
round to protect tender plants. In this way she had 
preserved her Fuchsias of greenhouse kinds, and Cal- 
ceolarias, and the Yucca in question. 

The most brilliant mass of flower in early July is 
given by the beds of Alstromeria aurantiaca; of this 
we have three distinct varieties, all desirable. There 
is a foiur feet wide bed, some forty feet long, of the kind 
most common in gardens, and at a distance from it 
a group grown from selected seed of a paler colour ; 
seedlings of this remain true to colour, or, as gardeners 
say, the variety is " fixed." The third sort is from a 
good old garden in Ireland, larger in every way than 
the type, with petals of great width, and extremely 
rich in coloiur. Alstromeria chilense is an equally good 
plant, and beds of it are beautiful in their varied 
colourings, all beautifully harmonious, and ranging 
through nearly the same tints as hardy Azaleas. These 
are the best of the Alstromerias for ordinary garden 
culture ; they do well in warm, sheltered places in the 
poorest soU, but the soil must be deep, for the bunches 
of tender, fleshy roots go far down. The roots are 
extremely brittle, and must be carefully handled. 
Alstromerias are easily raised from seed, but when 
the seedlings are planted out the crowns should be 

JULY 93 

quite four inches under the surface, and have a thick 
bed of leaves or some other mild mulching material 
over them in winter to protect them from frost, for 
they are Chilian plants, and demand and deserve a 
little surface comfort to carry them safely through the 
average English winter. 

Sea-holly {EryTigium) is another family of July- 
flowering plants that does well on poor, sandy soils 
that have been deeply stirred. Of these the more 
generally useful is E, Olivieranum, the E, amethystinum 
of nurserymen, but so named in error, the true plant 
being rare and scarcely known in gardens. The whole 
plant has an admirable structure of a dry and nervous 
quality, with a metallic colouring and dull lustre that 
are in strong contrast to softer types of vegetation. 
The black-coated roots go down straight and deep, and 
enable it to withstand almost any drought. Equalling 
it in beauty is E. giganteum, the Silver Thistle, of the 
same metallic texture, but whitish and almost silvery. 
This is a biennial, and should be sown every year. 
A more lowly plant, but hardly less beautiful, is the 
wild Sea-holly of our coasts (E. maritimum), with leaves 
almost blue, and a handsome tuft of flower nearly 
matclung them in colour. It occurs on wind-blown 
sandhills, but is worth a place in any garden. It comes 
up rather late, but endures, apparently imchanged, 
except for the bloom, throughout the late summer 
and autumn. 

But the flower of this month that has the firmest 


hold of the gardener's heart is the Carnation — the 
Clove Gilliflower of our ancestors. Why the good old 
name " Gilliflower " has gone out of use it is impossible 
to say, for certainly the popularity of the flower has 
never waned. Indeed, in the seventeenth century it 
seems that it was the best-loved flower of all in Eng- 
land ; for John Parkinson, perhaps oiur earliest writer 
on garden plants, devotes to it a whole chapter in his 
" Paradisus Terrestris," a distinction shared by no other 
flower. He describes no less than fifty kinds, a few 
of which are still to be recognised, though some are 
lost. For instance, what has become of the " great gray 
JStdOy' which he describes as a plant of the largest and 
strongest habit? The "gray" in this must refer to 
the colour of the leaf, as he says the flower is red ; but 
there is also a variety called the **blew Hvio" with 
flowers of a " purplish murrey " colouring, answering to 
the slate colour that we know as of not imfrequent 
occurrence. The branch of the family that we still 
cultivate as " Painted Lady " is named by him " Dainty 
Lady," the present name being no doubt an accidental 
and regrettable corruption. But though some of the 
older sorts may be lost, we have such a wealth of good 
known kinds that this need hardly be a matter of 
regret. The old red Clove always holds its own for 
hardiness, beauty, and perfume ; its newer and dwarfer 
variety, Paul Engleheart, is quite indispensable, while 
the beautiful salmon-coloured Raby is perhaps the 
most usefcd of all, with its hardy constitution and great 

JULY 96 

quantity of bloom. But it is difficult to grow Carna- 
tions on our very poor soil ; even when it is carefully 
prepared they still feel its starving and drying influ- 
ence, and show their distaste by unusual shortness of 

Oypsophiia paniculata is one of the most useful 
plants of this time of year; its deUcate masses of 
bloom are like clouds of flowery mist settled down 
upon the flower borders. Shooting up behind and 
among it is a tall, salmon-coloiured Gladiolus, a telling 
contrast both in form and manner of inflorescence. 
Nothing in the garden has been more satisfactory 
and useful than a hedge of the white everlasting Pea. 
The thick, black roots that go down straight and deep 
have been undisturbed for some years, and the plants 
yield a harvest of strong white bloom for cutting that 
always seems inexhaustible. They are staked with stiff, 
branching spray, thrust into the ground diagonally, 
and not reaching up too high. This supports the 
heavy mass of growth without encumbering the upper 
blooming part. 

Hydrangeas are well in flower at the foot of a warm 
wall, and in the same position are spreading masses of 
the beautiful Clematis Davidiajia, a herbaceous kind, 
with large, somewhat vine-like leaves, and flowers of a 
pale-blue colour of a delicate and uncommon quality. 

The blooming of the Lilium giganteum is one of the 
great flower events of the year. It is planted in rather 
large straggling groups just within the fringe of the 


copse. In March the bulbs, which are only just under- 
ground, thrust their sharply-pointed bottle-green tips 
out of the earth. These soon expand into heart-shaped 
leaves, looking much like Arum foliage of the largest 
size, and of a bright-green colour and glistening sur- 
face. The groups are so placed that they never see 
the morning sun. They require a 8%ht shelteringr 
of fir-bough, or anything suitable, till the third week 
of May, to protect the young leaves from the lat& 
frosts. In June the flower-stem shoots up straight 
and tall, like a vigorous young green-stenmied tree.. 
If the bulb is strong and the conditions suitable, it 
will attain a height of over eleven feet, but among the 
flowering bulbs of a group there axe sure to be some 
of various heights from differently sized bulbs ; thosa 
whose stature is about ten feet are perhaps the hand- 
somest. The upper part of the stem bears the grace- 
fully drooping great white Lily flowers, each bloouk 
some ten inches long, greenish when in bud, but chang- 
ing to white when fully developed. Inside each petal 
is a purplish-red stripe. In the evening the scent seems, 
to pom: out of the great white trumpets, and is almost 
overpowering, but gains a delicate quality by passing 
through the air, and at fifty yards away is like a faint 
waft of incense. In the evening light, when the sun 
is down, the great heads of white flower have a mys- 
terious and impressive effect when seen at some distance 
through the wood, and by moonlight have a strangely 
weird dignity. The flowers only last a few days, but 

The Giant Lily. 

JULY 97 

when they are over the beauty of the plant is by no 
means gone, for the handsome leaves remain in perfec- 
tion till the autumn, while the growing seed-pods^ 
rising into an erect position, become large and rather 
handsome objects. The rapidity and vigour of the 
four months' growth from bulb to giant flowering plant 
is very remarkable. The stem is a hollow, fleshy tube^ 
three inches in diameter at the base, and the large 
radiating roote are Uke those of a tree. The original 
bulb is, of course, gone, but when the plants that have 
flowered are taken up at the end of November, offsets 
are foimd clustered round the root ; these are carefully 
detached and replanted. The great growth of these 
Lilies could not be expected to come to perfection ia 
our very poor, shallow soil, for doubtless in their moun- 
tain home in the Eastern Himalayas they grow in deep 
beds of cool vegetable earth. Here, therefore, their 
beds are deeply excavated, and filled to within a foot 
of the top with any of the vegetable rubbish of which 
only too much accumulates in the late autumn. Holes 
twelve feet across and three feet deep are convenient 
graves for frozen Dahlia-tops and half-hardy Annuals ; 
a quantity of such material chopped up and tramped 
down close forms a cool subsoil that will comfort the 
Lily bulbs for many a year. The upper foot of soil is 
of good compost, and when the young bulbs are planted^ 
the whole is covered with some inches of dead leaves 
that join in with the natural woodland carpet. 

Jn the end of July we have some of the hottest of 



the summer days, only b^imiing to cool between six 
and seven in the evening. One or two evenings I go 
to the upper part of the wood to cut some fern-pegs 
for pegging Carnation layers, armed with fag-hook and 
knife and rubber, and a low rush-bottomed stool to sit 
on. The rubber is the stone for sharpening the knife — 
a long stone of coarse sandstone grit, such as is used 
for scythes. Whenever I am at work with a knife 
there is sure to be a rubber not far off, for a blunt 
knife I cannot endure, so there is a stone in each 
department of the garden sheds, and a whole series in 
the workshop, and one or two to spare to take on out- 
side jobs. The Bracken has to be cut with a light 
hand, as the side-shoots that will make the hook of the 
peg are easily broken just at the important joint. The 
fronds are of all sizes, from two to eight feet long ; but 
the best for pegs are the moderate-sized, that have not 
been weakened by growing too close together. Where 
they are crowded the main stalk is thick, but the side 
ones are thin and weak ; whereas, where they get Ught 
and air the side branches are carried on stouter ribs, 
and make stronger and better-balanced pegs. The cut 
fern is lightly laid in a long ridge with the ends all 
one way, and the operator sits at the stalk end of the 
ridge, a nice cool shady place having been chosen. 
Pour cuts with the knife make a peg, and each frond 
makes three pegs in about fifteen seconds. With the 
fronds laid straight and handy it goes almost rhyth- 
mically, then each group of three pegs is thrown into 

JULY 99 

the basket, where they clash on to the others with a 
hard ringing sound. In about four days the pegs dry 
to a surprising hardness ; they are better than wooden 
ones, and easier and quicker to make. 

People who are not used to handling Bracken 
should be careful how they cut a frond with a knife ; 
they are almost sure to get a nasty little cut on the 
second joint of the first finger of the right hand — ^not 
from the knife, but from the cut edge of the fern. 
The stalk has a silicious coating, that leaves a sharp 
edge like a thin flake of glass when cut diagonally 
with a sharp knife ; they should also beware how they 
pick or pull off a mature frond, for even if the part of 
the stalk laid hold of is bruised and twisted, some of 
the glassy structure holds together, and is likely to 
wound the hand. 



Leycesteria — Early recollections — Bank of choice Bhrubs — Bank of 
Briar Roses — Hollyhocks — Lavender — Lilies — Bracken and 
Heaths — The Fern-walk — Late-blooming rock-plants — 
Autumn flowers — Tea Roses — Fruit of Bosa mgosa — Fungi — 

Leycesteria farmosa is a soft- wooded shrub, whose beauty, 
without being showy, is full of charm and refinement 
I remember delighting in it in the shrub-wilderness of 
the old hpme, where I first learnt to know and love 
many a good bush and tree long before I knew their 
names. There were towering Rhododendrons (all jxm^i- 
cum) and Ailantus and Hickory and Magnolias, and 
then SpirsBa and Snowball tree and tall yellow Azalea, 
and Buttercup bush and shrubby Andromedas, and in 
some of the clumps tall Cypresses and the pretty cut- 
leaved Beech, and in the edges of others some of the 
good old garden Roses, double Cinnamon and S, Ituiida, 
and Damask and Provence, Moss-rose and Sweetbriar, 
besides tall-grown Lilacs and Syringa. It was aU 
rather overgrown, and perhaps all the prettier, and 
some of the wide grassy ways were quite shady in 
sununer. And I look back across the years and think 



what a fine lesson-book it was to a rather solitary 
child; and when I came to plant my own shrub 
clump I thought I would put rather near together 
some of the old favourites, so here again we come 
back to Leycesteria, put rather in a place of honour, 
and near it Buttercup bush and Andromeda and Mag- 
nolias and old garden Boses. 

I had no space for a shrub wilderness, but have 
made a large clump for just the things I like best, 
whether new friends or old. It is a long, low bank, 
five or six paces wide, highest in the middle, where 
the rather taller things are planted. These are mostly 
Junipers and Magnolias ; of the Magnolias, the kinds 
are Sovlangeana^ conspiciui, purpurea, and stdlata. One 
end of the clump is all of peat earth ; here are Andro- 
medas, Skimmeas, and on the cooler side the broad- 
leaved Gale, whose crushed leaves have almost the 
sweetness of Myrtle. One long side of the climtip 
faces south-west, the better to suit the things that 
love the sun. At the farther end is a thrifty bush of 
Styrax japonica, which flowers well in hot simuners, 
but another bush under a south wall flowers better. 
It must be a lovely shrub in the south of Eiirope and 
perhaps in Cornwall ; here the year's growth is always 
cut at the tip, but it flowers well on the older wood, 
and its hanging clusters of white bloom are lovely. 
At its foot, on the sunny side, are low bushy plants of 
Cidus flarentinus. I am told that this specific name 
is not right ; but the plant so commonly goes by it 


that it serves the purpose of popular identification. 
Then comes Magnolia stellata, now a perfectly-shaped 
bush five feet through, a sheet of sweet-scented bloom 
in April. Much too near it are two bushes of Cistus 
ladani/erus. They were put there as little plants to 
grow on for a year in the shelter and comfort of the 
warm bank, but were overlooked at the time they 
ought to have been shifted, and are now nearly five 
feet high, and are crowding the Magnolia. I cannot 
bear to take them away to waste, and they are much 
too large to transplant, so I am driving in some short 
stakes diagonally and tying them down by degrees, 
spreading out their branches between neighbouring 
plants. It is an upright-growing Cistus that would 
soon cover a tallish wall-space, but this time it must 
be content to grow horizontally, and I shall watch to 
see whether it wiU flower more freely, as bo many 
things do when trained down. 

Next comes a patch of the handsome JSambtisa 
Bagamowski, dwarf, but with strikingly-broad leaves 
of a bright yellow-green colour. It seems to be a 
slow grower, or more probably it is slow to grow 
at first ; Bamboos have a good deal to do undergroimd. 
It was planted six years ago, a nice little plant in a 
pot, and now is eighteen inches high and two feet 
across. Just beyond it is the Mastic bush {Gary- 
opteris TMistacanthus), a neat, grey-leaved small shrub, 
crowded in September with lavender - blue flowers, 
arranged in spikes something like a Veronica; the 


whole bush is aromatic, smelling strongly like highly- 
refined turpentine. Then comes XaTUhoceras sorbifolia, 
a handsome bush from Chiua, of rather recent intro- 
duction, with saw-edged pinnate leaves and white 
flowers earlier in the summer, but now forming its 
bunches of fruit that might easily be loistaken for 
walnuts with their green shucks on. Here a wide 
bushy growth of FMomis frtUicosa lays out to the 
sun, covered in early summer with its stiff whorls 
of hooded yellow flowers — one of the best of plants 
for a sunny bank in full sun in a poor soil. A little 
farther along, and near the path, comes the neat little 
Deutzia parvifiora and another little shrub of fairy- 
like delicacy, PhUaddphus microphyUiis, Behiud them 
is Stephanandra JUxTiom, beautiful in foliage, and two 
good St. John's worts, Hypericum aureum and JT. 
Moserianum, and again in front a Cistus of low, spread- 
ing growth, C, halimifolius, or something near it. One 
or two favourite kinds of Tree Pseonies, comfortably 
sheltered by Lavender bushes, fill up the other end 
of the clump next to the Andromedas. In all spare 
spaces on the sunny side of the shrub-clump is a 
carpeting of Megasea ligulata, a plant that looks well 
all the year roimd, and gives a quantity of precious 
flower for cutting in March and April. 

I was nearly forgetting Pavia macrostcuihya, now 
well established among the choice shrubs. It is Uke 
a bush Horse-chestnut, but more refined, the white 
spikes standing well up above the handsome leaves. 


On the cooler side of the clump is a longish plant- 
ing of dwarf Andromeda, precious not only for its 
beauty of form and flower, but from the fine winter 
colouring of the leaves, and those two useful Spiraeas, 
S. Thuniergiy with its countless Uttle starry flowers, 
and the double prunifolia, the neat leaves of whose 
long sprays turn nearly scarlet in autumn. Then 
there comes a rather long stretch of Artemisia stel- 
leriana, a white-leaved plant much like Omeraria 
maritima, answering just the same purpose, but per- 
fectly hardy. It is so much like the silvery Cineraria 
that it is difficult to remember that it prefers a cool 
and even partly-shaded place. 

Beyond the long ridge that forms the shrub- 
clump is another, parallel to it and only separated 
from it by a path, also in the form of a long low 
bank. On the crown of this is the double row of 
cob-nuts that forms one side of the nut-alley. It 
leaves a low sunny bank that I have given to various 
Briar Roses and one or two other low, bushy kinds. 
Here is the wild Burnet Rose, with its yellow-white 
single flowers and large black hips, and its garden 
varieties, the Scotch Briars, double white, flesh-coloured, 
pink, rose, and yellow, and the hybrid briar, Stanwell 
Perpetual. Here also is the fine hybrid of Bosa rugosa^ 
Madame Greorge Bruant, and the lovely double Bosa 
Ivjdda, and one or two kinds of small bush Roses from 
out-of-the-way gardens, and two wild Roses that have 
for me a special interest, as I collected them from 

Lavekdek Hbdgb and Steps to thk Loft. 

Hollyhock, Pink Beaotv. 


their rocky home in the island of CaprL One is a 
Sweetbriar, in all ways like the native one, except 
that the flowers are nearly white, and the hips are 
larger. Last year the bush was distinctly more showy 
than any other of its kind, on account of the size and 
unusual quantity of the fruit. The other is a form 
of liosa sempervirens, with rather large white flowers 
fedntly tinged with yellow. 

Hollyhocks have been fine, in spite of the disease, 
which may be partly checked by very liberal treat- 
ment. By far the most beautiful is one of a pure 
pink colour, with a wide outer frill. It came first 
from a cottage garden, and has always since been 
treasured. I call it Pink Beauty. The wide outer 
petal (a heresy to the florist) makes the flower in- 
finitely more beautiful than the all-over full-double 
form that alone is esteemed on the show-table. I 
shall hope in time to come upon the same shape of 
flower in white, sulphur, rose-colour, and deep blood- 
crimson, the colours most worth having in Holly- 

Lavender has been unusually fine: to reap its 
fragrant harvest is one of the many joys of the flower 
year. If it is to be kept and dried, it should be cut 
when as yet only a few of the purple blooms are out 
on the spike ; if left too late, the flower shakes off the 
stalk too readily. 

Some plantations of LUium Harrisi and LUium 
<mTatum have turned out well. Some of the Harrisi 


were grouped among tufts of the bright-foliaged Puvkia 
grandijlora on the cool side of a Yew hedge. Just at 
the foot of the hedge is Tropoeolum speciosum^ which 
runs up into it and flowers in graceful wreaths some 
feet above the ground. The masses of pure white lily 
and cool green foliage below are fine against the dark, 
solid greenery of the Yew, and the brilliant flowers 
above are like little jewels of flame. The Bermuda 
Lilies (JETarrisi) are intergrouped with Z. gpedomm, 
which will follow them when their bloom is over. 
The Z. auratum were planted among groups of Rhodo- 
dendrons; some of them are between tall Rhododendrons, 
and have large climtips of Lady Fern {Filix fosmina) in 
front, but those that look best are between and among 
Bamboos (B. Metake) ; the heavy heads of flower borne 
on tall stems bend gracefully through the Bamboos, 
which just give them enough support. 

Here and there in the copse, among the thick 
masses of green Bracken, is a frond or two turning 
yellow. This always happens in the first or second 
week of August, though it is no indication of the 
approaching yellowing of the whole. But it is taken 
as a signal that the Fenx is in full maturity, and a 
certain quantity is now cut to dry for protection and 
other winter uses. Dry Bracken lightly shaken over 
frames is a better protection than mats, and is almost 
as easily moved on and off. 

The Ling is now in full flower, and is more beautiful 
in the landscape than any of the garden Heaths; the 

Solomon's Seal ii 

The Fkrn-wai.k 


relation of colouring, of greyish foliage and low-toned 
pink bloom with the dusky spaces of purplish-grey 
shadow, are a precious lesson to the colour-student. 

The fern-walk is at its best. It passes from the 
garden upwards to near the middle of the copse. The 
path, a wood-path of moss and grass and short-cut 
heath, is a little lower than the general level of the 
wood The mossy bank, some nine feet wide, and 
originally cleared for the purpose, is planted with large 
groups of hardy Ferns, with a preponderance (due to 
preference) of Dilated Shield Fern and Lady Fern. 
Once or twice in the length of the bank are hollows, 
sinking at their lowest part to below the path-level, for 
OsmuTida and JBlechnvm. When rain is heavy enough 
to run down the path it finds its way into these hollow 

Among the groups of Fern are a few plants of 
true wood-character — Linncea, TrierUaiis, Goodyera, and 
TriUiurru At the back of the bank, and stretching 
away among the trees and underwood, are wide-spread- 
ing groups of Solomon's-seal and Wood-rush, joining 
in with the wild growth of Bracken and Bramble. 

Most of the Alpines and dwarf-growing plants^ 
whose home is the rock-garden, bloom in May or June, 
but a few flower in early autunm. Of these one of 
the brightest is Buta pcUavina, a dwarf plant with 
lemon-coloured flowers and a very neat habit of growth* 
It soon makes itself at home in a sunny bank in poor 
soil. PUrocephalus pamassi is a dwarf Scabious, with 


small, grey foliage keeping close to the ground, and 
rather large flowers of a low- toned pink. The white 
Thyme is a capital plant, perfectly prostrate, and with 
leaves of a bright yellow-green, that with the white 
bloom give the plant a particularly fresh appearance. 
It looks at its best when trailing about little flat spaces 
between the neater of the hardy Ferns, and hanging 
over little rocky ledges. Somewhat farther back is 
the handsome dwarf Platycodon Marim, and behind it 
the taller Platycodons, among full-flowered bushes of 
Olearia Raasti. 

By the middle of August the garden assumes a 
character distinctly autumnal Much of its beauty 
now depends on the many non-hardy plants, such 
as Gladiolus, Canna, and Dahlia, on Tritomas of doubt- 
ful hardiness, and on half-hardy annuals — Zinnia, 
Helichrysum, Sunflower, and French and African 
Marigold. Fine as are the newer forms of hybrid 
Gladiolus, the older strain of gandavensis hybrids are 
still the best as border flowers. In the large flower 
border, tall, well-shaped spikes of a good pink one 
look well shooting up through and between a wide- 
spreading patch of glaucous foliage of the smaller 
Yuccas, Tritoma glaticescens, Iris pallida, and Funkia 
Sieboldi, while scarlet and salmon-coloured kinds are 
among groups of Pseonies that flowered in June, whose 
leaves are now taking a fine reddish colouring. 
Between these and the edge of the border is a strag- 
gling group some yards in length of the dark-foliaged 


Heudiera JRiehardsoni, that will hold its satin-surfaced 
leaves till the end of the year. Farther back in the 
border is a group of the scarlet-flowered Dahlia Fire 
King, and behind these. Dahlias Lady Ardilaun and 
Cochineal, of deeper scarlet colouring. The Dahlias 
are planted between groups of Oriental Poppy, that 
flower in May and then die away till late in autumn. 
Bight and left of the scarlet group are Tritomas^ 
intergrouped with Dahlias of moderate height, and 
vnth orange and flame-coloured flowera This leads 
to some masses of flowers of strong yellow colouring ; 
the old perennial Sunflower, in its tall single form, 
and the best variety of the old double one of moderate 
height, the useful R. loetiflorus and the tall Miss 
Mellish, the giant form of HarpaUum rigidwni, Rvd- 
lekia Newmanni reflects the same strong colour in 
the front part of the border, and all spaces are filled 
with orange Zinnias and African Marigolds and yellow 
Helichrysum. As we pass along the border the colour 
changes to paler yellow by means of a pale perennial 
Sunflower and the sulphur-coloured annual kind, with 
Paris Daisies, CEnothera Zamarkiana and Verbascum 
pMomoides. The two last were cut down to about 
four feet after their earliest bloom was over, and 
are now again full of profusely-flowered lateral growths. 
At the farther end of the border we come again to 
glaucous foliage and pale-pink flower of Gladiolus and 
Japan Anemone. It is important in such a border of 
rather large size, that can be seen from a good space 


of lawn, to keep the flowers in rather large masses of 
colour. No one who has ever done it, or seen it done, 
will go back to the old haphazard sprinkle of colour- 
ing without any thought of arrangement, such as is 
usually seen in a mixed border. There is a wall of 
sandstone backing the border, also planted in relation 
to the colour-massing in the front space. This gives 
a quiet background of handsome foliage, with always 
in the flower season some show of colour in one part 
or another of its length. Just now the most conspi- 
cuous of its clothing shrubs or of the somewhat tall 
growing flowers at its foot are a fine variety of Bignania 
radicanSy a hardy Fuchsia, the Claret Vine covering a 
good space, with its red-bronze leaves and clusters of 
blue-black grapes, the fine hybrid Criniuns and Clero- 
dendron fcstidum. 

Tea Roses have been unusually lavish of autumn 
bloom, and some of the garden climbmg Roses, hybrids 
of China and Noisette, have been of great beauty, both 
growing and as room decoration. Many of them flower 
in bimches at the end of the shoots; whole branches, 
cut nearly three feet long, make charming arrange- 
ments in tall glasses or high vases of Oriental china. 
Perhaps their great autumnal vigour is a reaction 
from the check they received in the earlier part of the 
year, when the bloom was almost a failure from the 
long drought and the accompanying attacks of blight 
and mildew. The great hips of the Japanese Bosa 
rugosa are in perfection; they have every ornamental 


quality — size, form, colour, texture, and a delicate 
waxlike bloom; their pulp is thick and luscious, and 
makes an excellent lam. 

The quantity of fungous growth this year is quite 
remarkable. The late heavy rain coming rather sud- 
denly on the well-warmed earth has no doubt brought 
about their unusual size and abundance; in some 
woodland places one can hardly walk without stepping 
upon them. Many spots in the copse are brilliant 
with large groups of the scarlet-capped Fly Agaric 
(^Amanita muscaria). It comes out of the ground look- 
ing like a dark scarlet ball, generally flecked with 
raised whitish spots ; it quickly rises on its white stalk, 
the ball changing to a brilliant flat disc, six or seven 
inches across, and lasting several days in beauty. But 
the most frequent fungus is the big brown Boletus, in 
size varying from a small bun to a dinner-plate. Some 
kinds are edible, but I have never been inclined to try 
them, being deterred by their coarse look and uninvit- 
ing coat of slimy varnish. And why eat doubtful 
BoUtus when one can have the delicious Chantarelle 
{GarUhareUus dbarius), also now at its best ? In colour 
and smell it is like a ripe apricot, perfectly wholesome, 
and, when rightly cooked, most delicate in flavour and 
texture. It should be looked for in cool hollows in 
oak woods;- when once found and its good qualities 
appreciated, it will never again be neglected. 



Sowing Sweet Peas — ^Autumn-sown annuals — Dahlias — Worthless 
kinds — Staking — Planting the rock-garden — Growing small 
plants in a wall — The old wall — Dry-walling — How built — 
How planted — Hyssop — A destructive storm — Berries of Water- 
elder — Beginning ground- work. 

In the second week of September we sow Sweet Peas in 
shallow trenches. The flowers from these are larger 
and stronger and come in six weeks earlier than from 
those sown in the spring ; they come too at a time when 
they are especially valuable for cutting. Many other 
hardy Annuals are best sown now. Some indeed, such 
as the lovely Collinsia verna and the large white Iberis,. 
only do well if autumn-sown. Among others, some of 
the most desirable are Nemophila, Platystemon, Love- 
in-a-Mist, Larkspurs, Pot Marigold, Virginian Stocky 
and the delightful Venus's Navel- wort {Omphalodes lint- 
folia). I always think this daintily beautiful plant is 
undeservedly neglected, for how seldom one sees it* 
It is full of the most charming refinement, with its 
milk-white bloom and grey-blue leaf and neat habit 
of growth. Any one who has never before tried 
Annuals autumn-sown would be astonished at their 



vigour. A single plant of Nemophila will often cover 
a square yard with its beautiful blue bloom ; and 
then, what a gain it is to have these pretty things in 
full strength in spring and early summer, instead of 
waiting to have them in a much poorer state later in 
the year, when other flowers are in plenty. 

Hardy Poppies should be sown even earlier ; August 
is the best time. 

Dahlias are now at their full growth. To make 
a choice for one's own garden, one must see the 
whole plant growing. As with many another kind of 
flower, nothing is more misleading than the evidence 
of the show-table, for many that there look the hest, 
and are indeed lovely in form and colour as individual 
blooms, come from plants that are of no garden value. 
For however charming in humanity is the virtue 
modesty, and however becoming is the imobtrusive 
bearing that gives evidence of its possession, it is quite 
misplaced in a Dahlia. Here it becomes a vice, for the 
DahUa's first duty in life is to flaimt and to swagger 
and to carry gorgeous blooms well above its leaves, 
and on no account to hang its head. Some of the 
delicately-coloured kinds lately raised not only hang 
their heads, but also hide them away among masses 
of their coarse foliage, and are doubly frauds, looking 
everything that is desirable in the show, and proving 
worthless in the garden. It is true that there are 
ways of cutting out superfluous green stuff and thereby 
encouraging the blooms to show up, but at a busy 


season, when rank leafage grows fast, one does not want 
to be every other day tinkering at the Dahlias. 

Careful and strong staking they must always have, 
not forgetting one central stake to secure the main 
jp*owth at first. It is best to drive this into the hole 
made for the plant before placing the root, to avoid 
the danger of sending the point of the stake through 
the tender tubers. Its height out of the ground 
^should be about eighteen inches less than the expected 
stature of the plant. As the Dahlia grows, there 
should be at least three outer stakes at such distance 
:&om the middle one as may suit the bulk and habit 
of the plant ; and it is a good plan to have wooden 
hoops to tie to these, so as to form a girdle round the 
whole plant, and for tying out the outer branchea 
The hoop should be only loosely fastened — ^best with 
roomy loops of osier, so that it may be easily shifted 
up with the growth of the plant. We make the hoops 
in the winter of long straight rent rods of Spanish 
Ohestnut, bending them while green round a tub, and 
tying them with tarred twine or osier bands. They 
last several years. All this care in staking the Dahlias 
is labour well bestowed, for when autumn storms come 
the wind has such a power of wrenching and twisting, 
that imless the plant, now grown into a heavy mass 
of succulent vegetation, is braced by firm fixing at the 
sides, it is in danger of being broken off short just 
ikbove the ground, where its stem has become almost 
woody, and therefore brittle. 


Now is the moment to get to work' on the rock- 
garden; there is no time of year so precious for this 
work as September. Small things planted now, while 
the gromid is still warm, grow at the root at once, and 
get both anchor-hold and feeding-hold of the ground 
before frost comes. Those that are planted later do 
not take hold, and every frost heaves them up, some- 
times right out of the groimd. Meanwhile those that 
liave got a firm root-hold are growing steadily all the 
winter, imderground if not above ; and when the first 
spring warmth comes they can draw upon the reserve 
of strength they have been hoarding up, and make 
good growth at once. 

Except in the case of a rockery only a year old, there 
is sure to be some part that wants to be worked afresh, 
and I find it convenient to do about a third of the 
space every year. Many of the indispensable Alpines 
and rock-plants of lowly growth increase at a great 
rate, some spreading over much more than their due 
space, the very reason of this quick-spreading habit 
being that they are travelling to fresh pasture ; many 
of them prove it clearly by djdng away in the middle 
of the patch, and only showing vigorous vitality at the 

Such plants as Silene alpedris, SutcfUnsia alpina, 
Pterocephalus, the dwarf alpine kinds of Achillea and 
Artemisia, Veronica and Linaria, and the mossy Saxi- 
frages, in my soil want transplanting every two years, 
and the silveiy Saxifrages every three years. As in 


much else, one must watch what happens in one's 
own garden. We practical gardeners have no absolute 
knowledge of the constitution of the plant, still less 
of the chemistry of the soil, but by the constant 
exercise of watchful care and helpful sympathy we 
acquire a certain degree of instinctive knowledge, which 
is as valuable in its way, and probably more appli- 
cable to individual local conditions, than the tabulated 
formulas of more orthodox science. 

One of the best and simplest ways of growing rock- 
plants is in a loose wall. In many gardens an abrupt 
change of level makes a retaining wall necessary, and 
when I see this built in the usual way as a solid 
structure of brick and mortar — unless there be any 
special need of the solid wall — I always regret that it 
is not built as a home for rock-plants. An exposure 
to north or east and the cool backing of a mass of 
earth is just what most Alpines delight in. A dry 
wall, which means a wall without mortar, may be any- 
thing between a wall and a very steep rock- work, and 
may be built of brick or of any kind of local stone. I 
have built and planted a good many hundred yards of 
dry walling with my own hands, both at home and in 
other gardens, and can speak with some confidence both 
of the pleasure and interest of the actual making and 
planting, and of the satisfactory results that follow. 

The best example I have to show in my own 
garden is the so-called "Old Wall," before mentioned. 
It is the boimding and protecting fence of the Pceony 


ground on its northern side, and consists of a double 
dry wall with, earth between. An old hedge bank that 
was to come away was not far off, within easy wheel- 
ing distance. So the wall was built up on each side, 
and as it grew, the earth from the hedge was harrowed 
in to fill up. A dry wall needs very little foimdation ; 
two thin courses imderground are quite enough. The 
point of most structural importance is to keep the 
earth solidly trodden and rammed behind the stones 
of each course and throughout its bulk, and every two 
or three courses to lay some stones that are extra long 
front and back, to tie the wall well into the bank. A 
local sandstone is the walling material. In the pit it 
occurs in separate layers, with a few feet of hard sand 
between each. The lowest layer, sometimes thirty to 
forty feet down, is the best and thickest, but that is 
good building stone, and for dry walling we only want 
" tops " or " seconds," the later and younger formations 
of stone in the quarry. The very roughness and 
almost rotten state of much of this stone makes it 
all the more acceptable as nourishment and root-hold 
to the tiny plants that are to grow in its chinks, and 
that in a few months will change much of the rough 
rock-surface to green growth of delicate vegetation. 
Moreover, much of the soft sandy stone hardens by 
exposure to weather; and even if a stone or two 
crumbles right away in a few years' time, the rest will 
hold firmly, and the space left will make a little cave 
where some small fern will live happily. 


The wall is planted as it is built with hardy Ferns — 
Blechnum, Poljrpody, Hartstongue, AdiarUum, Ceterach, 
Asplenium, and Ruta muraria. The last three like 
lime, so a barrow of old mortar-rubbish is at hand, 
and the joint where they are to be planted has a layer 
of their favourite soiL Each course is laid fairly level 
as to its front top edge, stones of about the same 
thickness going in course by course. The earth back- 
ing is then carefully rammed into the spaces at the 
uneven backs of the stones, and a thin layer of earth 
over the whole course, where the mortar would have 
been in a built wall, gives both a " bed " for the next 
row of stones ajid soil for the plants that are to grow 
in the joints. 

The face of the wall slopes backward on both sides, 
so that its whole thickness of five feet at the bottom 
draws in to fomr feet at the top. All the stones are 
laid at a right angle to the plane of the inclination — 
that is to say, each stone tips a little down at the back, 
and its front edge, instead of being upright, faces a 
little upward. It follows that every drop of gentle 
rain that falls on either side of the wall is carried into 
the joints, following the backward and downward pitch 
of the stones, and then into the earth behind them. 

The mass of earth in the middle of the wall gives 
abundant root-room for bushes, and is planted with 
bush Roses of three kinds, of which the largest mass 
is of Bosa Itcdda, Then there is a good stretch of 
Berberis ; then Scotch Briars, and in one or two 


important places Jumpers; then more Berberis, and 
Bibes^ and the common Barberry, and neat bushes of 
Olearia Haastii, 

The wall was built seven years ago, and is now 
completely clothed. It gives me a garden on the top 
and a garden on each side, and though its own actual 
height is only 4^ feet, yet the bushes on the top make 
it a sheltering hedge from seven to ten feet high. 
One small length of three or four yards of the top 
has been kept free of larger bushes, and is planted 
on its northern edge with a very neat and pretty dwarf 
kind of Lavender, while on the simny side is a thriving 
patch of the hardy Cactus (OpurUia Baffinesqvmna\ 
Just here, in the narrow border at the foot of the wall, 
is a group of the beautiful CHnum Powdl% while a 
white Jasmine clothes the face of the wall right and 
left, and rambles into the Barberry bushes just beyond. 
It so happened that these things had been planted 
close together because the conditions of the place were 
likely to favour them, and not, as is my usual practice,, 
with any intentional idea of harmonious grouping. I 
did not even remember that they all flower in July, 
and at nearly the same time ; and one day seeing them 
all in bloom together, I was delighted to see the success 
of the chance arrangement, and how pretty it all was, 
for I should never have thought of grouping together 
pink and lavender, yellow and white. 

The northern face of the wall, beginning at its 
eastern end, is planted thus : For a length of ten or 


twelve paces there are Ferns, Polypody and Harts- 
tongue, and a few Adiantum nigrum^ with here and 
there a Welsh Poppy. There is a clump of the wild 
Stitchwort that came by itself, and is so pretty that I 
leave it. At the foot of the wall are the same, but 
more of the Hartstongue ; and here it grows best, for 
not only is the place cooler, but I gave it some loamy 
soil, which it loves. Farther along the Hartstongue 
gives place to the wild Iris (/. /oettdissima), a good long 
stretch of it. Nothing, to my mind, looks better than 
these two plants at the base of a wall on the cool side. 
In the upper part of the wall are various Ferns, and 
that interesting plant. Wall Pennywort (Cotyledon um- 
hilicus). It is a native plant, but not found in this 
neighbourhood ; I brought it from Cornwall, where it 
is so plentiful in the chinks of the granite stone-fences. 
It sows itself and grows afresh year after year, though I 
always fear to lose it in one of our dry summers. Next 
comes the common London Pride, which I think quite 
the most beautiful of the Saxifrages of this section. K 
it was a rare thing, what a fuss we should make about 
it ! The place is a little dry for it, but all the same, 
it makes a handsome spreading tuft hanging over the 
face of the walL When its pink cloud of bloom is at 
its best, I always think it the prettiest thing in the 
garden. Then there is the Yellow Everlasting {OnoL- 
phcUium orierUale), a fine plant for the upper edge of 
the wall, and even better on the sunny side, and the 
white form of Campanvla ccespitosa, with its crowd of 

Erinus ALPINI'S 


delicate little white bells rising in June, from the 
neatest foliage of tender but lively green. Then follow 
deep-hanging curtains of Yellow Alyssum and of hybrid 
rock Pinks. The older plants of Alyssum are nearly 
worn out, but there are plenty of promidng young seed- 
lings in the lower joints. 

Throughout the wall there are patches of Polypody 
Fern, one of the best of cool wall-plants, its creeping 
root-stock always feeling its way along the joints, and 
steadily furnishing the wall with more and more of its 
neat fronds ; it is all the more valuable for beiog at its 
best in early winter, when so few ferns are to be seen. 
Every year, in some bare places, I sow a little seed of 
ErinvA alpinics, always trying for places where it will 
follow some other kind of plant, such as a place where 
rock Pink or Alyssum has been. All plants are the better 
for this sort of change. In the seven years that the 
wall has stood, the stones have become weathered, and 
the greater part of the north side, wherever the stone 
work shows it, is hoary with mosses, and looks as if it 
might have been standing for a hundred years. 

The simny side is nearly clear of moss, and I have 
planted very few things in its face, because the narrow 
border at its foot is so precious for shrubs and plants 
that like a warm, sheltered place. Here are several 
Choisyas and Sweet Verbenas, also Escallonia^ Stuartia, 
and Styrax, and a long straggling group of some very 
fine Pentstemons. In one space that was fairly clear 
I planted a bit of Hyssop, an old sweet herb whose 


scent I delight in ; it grows into a thick bush-like plant 
full of purple flower in the late summer, when it attracts 
quantities of bumble-bees. It is a capital wall-plant, 
and has sown its own seed, till there* is a large patch 
on the top and some in its face, and a broadly-spread- 
ing group in the border below. It is one of the plants 
that was used in the old Tudor gardens for edgings ; 
the growth is close and woody at the base, and is easily 
clipped into shape. 

The fierce gales and heavy rains of the last days 
of September wrought sad havoc among the flowers. 
Dahlias were virtually wrecked. Though each plant 
had been tied to three stakes, their masses of heavy 
growth could not resist the wrenching and twisting 
action of the wind, and except in a few cases where 
they were well sheltered, their heads lay on the groimd^ 
the stems broken down at the last tie. If anything 
about a garden could be disheartening, it would be its 
aspect after such a storm of wind. Wall shrubs, only 
lately made safe, as we thought, have great gaps torn 
out of them, though tied with tarred string to strong 
iron staples, staples and all being wrenched out. Every- 
thing looks battered, and whipped, and ashamed; 
branches of trees and shrubs lie about far from their 
sources of origin ; green leaves and Uttle twigs are 
washed up into thick drifts ; apples and quinces, that 
should have hung till mid-October, lie bruised and 
muddy under the trees. Newly-planted roses and 
hoUies have a funnel-shaped hole worked in the ground 


at their base, showing the power of the wind to twist 
their heads, and giving warning of a corresponding 
disturbance of the tender roots. There is nothing to 
be done but to look round carefully and search out all 
disasters and repair them as well as may be, and to 
sweep up the wreckage and rubbish, and try to forget 
the rough weather, and enjoy the calm beauty of the 
better days that follow, and hope that it may be long 
before such another angry storm is sent. And indeed 
a few quiet days of sunshine and mild temperature 
work wonders. In a week one would hardly know that 
the garden had been so cruelly torn about Fresh 
flowers take the place of bruised ones, and wholesome 
young growths prove the enduring vitality of vegetable 
life. Still we cannot help feeling, towards the end of 
September, that the flower year is nearly at an end, 
though the end is a gorgeous one, with its strong 
yellow masses of the later perennial Simflowers and 
Marigolds, Goldenrod, and a few belated Gladioli ; the 
brilliant foliage of Virginian Creepers, the leaf-painting 
of Vitis Caignettii, and the strong crimson of the Claret 

The Water-elder (Vilyiirnum apidus) now makes a 
brave show in the edge of the copse. It is without 
doubt the most beautiful berry-bearing shrub of mid- 
September. The fruit hangs in ample clusters from 
the point of every branch and of every lateral twig, in 
colour like the brightest of red currants, but with a 
translucent lustre that gives each separate berry a 


much brighter look ; the whole bush shows fine warm 
colouring, the leaves having turned to a rich red. 
Perhaps it is because it is a native that this grand 
shrub or small tree is generally neglected in gardens, 
and is almost unknown in nurserymen's catalogues. 
It is the parent of the well-known Guelder-Bose, which 
is merely its double-flowered form. But the double 
flower leaves no berry, its familiar white ball being 
formed of the sterile part of the flower only, and the 
foliage of the garden kind does not assume so bright 
an autunm colouring. 

The nights are growing chilly, with even a little 
frost, and the work for the coming season of dividing 
and transplanting hardy plants has already begun. 
Plans are being made for any improvements or altera- 
tions that involve ground work. Already we have been 
at work on some broad grass rides through the copse 
that were roughly levelled and laid with grass last 
winter. The turf has been raised and hollows filled in, 
grass seed sown in bare patches, and the whole beaten 
and rolled to a good surface, and the job put out of 
hand in good time before the leaves begin to falL 



'MirliftAlinmi Daisies — Arranging and staking — Spindle -tree — 
Autumn colour of AtaIpjui — Quinces — Medlars — ^Advantage of 
early planting of shrubs — Careful planting — Pot-bound roots — 
Cypress hedge — Planting in difficult places — Hardy flower 
border — Lifting Dahlias — Dividing hardy plants — Dividing 
tools — Plants difficult to divide — Peiiwinkles — Stembergia — 
Czar Violets — Deep cultivation for Lilium gigamiemr^ 

The early days of October bring with them the best 
bloom of the Michaelmas Daisies, the many beautiful 
garden kinds of the perennial Asters. They have, as 
they well deserve to have, a garden to themselves. 
Passing along the wide path in front of the big flower 
border, and through the pergola that forms its con- 
tinuation, with eye and brain fiill of rich, warm colour- 
ing of flower and leaf, it is a delightful surprise to pass 
through the pergola's last right-hand opening, and to 
come suddenly upon the Michaelmas Daisy garden in 
fall beauty. Its clean, fresh, pure colouring, of pale 
and dark lilac, strong purple, and pure white, among 
masses of pale-green foliage, forms a contrast almost 
startling after the warm colouring of nearly everything 
else ; and the sight of a region where the flowers are 



fresh and newly opened, and in glad spring-like pro- 
fusion, wheiji all else is on the verge of death and 
decay, gives an impression of satisfying refreshment 
that is hardly to be equalled throughout the year. 
Their special garden is a wide border on each side of a 
path, its length bounded on one side by a tall hedge 
of filberts, and on the other side by clumps of yew, 
holly, and other shrubs. It is so well sheltered that 
the strongest wind has its destructive power broken, 
and only reaches it as a refreshing tree-filtered breeze. 
The Michaelmas Daisies are replanted every year as 
soon as their bloom is over, the ground having been 
newly dug and manured. The old roots, which will 
have increased about fourfold, are pulled or chopped 
to pieces, nice bits with about five crowns beiog chosen 
for replanting ; these are put in groups of three to five 
together. Tall-growing kinds like Novi Bdg% Robert 
Parker, are kept rather towards the back, while those 
of delicate and graceful habit, such as CordifolitLs elegans 
and its good variety Diana are allowed to come for- 
ward. The fine dwarf Aster ameUus is used in rather 
large quantity, coming quite to the front in some 
places, and running in and out between the clumps of 
other kinds. Good-sized groups of Pyrethrum vUgi- 
nomm are given a place among the Asters, for though 
of quite another family, they are Daisies, and bloom 
at Michaelmas, and are admirable companions to the 
main occupants of the borders. The only other plants 
admitted are white Dahlias, the two differently striped 

' Michaelmas Daisies. 


varieties of EuUdia japonica, the fresh green foliage of 
Indian Com, and the brilUant Ught-green leafage of 
Funkia grandiflora. Great attention is paid to staking 
the Asters. Nothing is more deplorable than to see 
a neglected, overgrown plant, at the last moment, when 
already half blown down, tied up in a tight bunch to 
one stake. When we are cutting underwood in the 
copse in the winter, special branching spray is looked 
out for our Michaelmas Daisies and cut about four feet 
or five feet long, with one main stem and from two to 
five branches. Towards the end of June and begin- 
ning of July these axe thrust firmly into the groimd 
among the plants, and the young growths are tied out 
so as to show to the best advantage. Good kinds of 
Michaelmas Daisies are now so nimierous that in select- 
ing those for the special garden it is well to avoid both 
the ones that bloom earliest and also the very latest, 
80 that for about three weeks the borders may show a 
well-filled mass of bloom. 

The bracken in the copse stands dry and dead, but 
when leaves are fluttering down and the chilly days of 
mid-October are upon us, its warm, rusty colouring is 
certainly cheering ; the green of the freshly grown mossy 
carpet below looks vividly bright by contrast. Some 
bushes of Spindle-tree {Euonymvs europoms) are loaded 
with their rosy seed-pods ; some are already burst, and 
show the orange-scarlet seeds — on audacity of colouring 
that looks all the brighter for the even, lustreless green 
of the leaves and of the green-barked twigs and stems. 


The hardy Azaleas are now blazing masses of 
crimson, almost scarlet leaf; the old A, pontica, with, 
its large foliage, is as bright as any. With them are 
grouped some of the North American Vacciniums and 
Andromedas, with leaves almost as bright. The ground 
between the groups of shrubs is knee-deep in heath* 
The rusty-coloured withered bloom of the wild heath, 
on its purplish-grey masses and the surrounding banks 
of dead fern make a groundwork and background of 
excellent colour-harmony. 

How seldom does one see Quinces planted for 
ornament, and yet there is hardly any small tree that 
better deserves such treatment. Some Quinces planted 
about eight years ago are now perfect pictures, their 
lissome branches borne down with the load of greats 
deep-yellow fruit, and their leaves turning to a colour 
almost as rich and glowing. The old English rather 
round-fruited kind with the smooth skin is the best 
both for flavour and beauty — a mature tree without 
leaves in winter has a remarkably graceful, arching^ 
almost weepiog growth. The other kind is of a rather 
more rigid form, and though its woolly-coated, pear- 
shaped fruits are larger and strikingly handsome, the 
whole tree has a coarser look, and just lacks the attrac- 
tive grace of the other. They will do fairly well 
almost anywhere, though they prefer a rich, loamy soil 
and a cool, damp, or even swampy place. The Medlar 
is another of the small fruiting trees that is more 
neglected than it should be, as it well deserves a place 


among ornamental shrubs. Here it is a precious thing 
in the region where garden melts into copse. The 
fruit-laden twigs are just now very attractive, and its 
handsome leaves can never be passed without admira- 
tion. Close to the Medlars is a happy intergrowth 
of the wild Guelder -Rose, still bearing its brilliant 
clusters, a strong-growing and far-clambering garden 
form of Bosa arvensis, fiill of red hips, Sweetbriar, and 
Holly — a happy tangle of red-fruited bushes, all looking 
as if they were trying to prove, in friendly emulation, 
which can make the bravest show of red-berried wild- 
flung wreath, or bending spray, or stately spire ; while 
at their foot the bright colour is repeated by the bend- 
ing, berried heads of the wild Iris, opening like fantastic 
dragons' mouths, and pouring out the red bead-like 
seeds upon the ground ; and, as if to make the picture 
still more complete, the leaves of the wild Strawberry 
that cover the ground with a close carpet have also 
turned to a crimson, and here and there to an almost 
scarlet colour. 

During the year I mate careful notes of any 
trees or shrubs that will be wanted, either to come 
from the nursery or to be transplanted within my 
own groimd, so as to plant them as early as possible. 
Of the two extremes it is better to plant too early 
than too late. I would rather plant deciduous trees 
before the leaves are off than wait till after Christmas, 
but of all planting times the best is from the middle 

of October till the end of November, and the same 



time is the best for all hardy plants of large or 
moderate size. 

I have no patience with slovenly planting. I like 
to have the ground prepared some months in advance, 
and when the proper time comes, to do the actual plant- 
ing as well as possible. The hole in the already pre- 
pared ground is taken out so that the tree shall stand 
exactly right for depth, though in this dry soil it is 
well to make the hole an inch or two deeper, in order 
to leave the tree standing in the centre of a shallow 
depression, to allow of a good watering now and then 
during the following simuner. The hole must be 
made wide enough to give easy space for the most 
outward-reaching of the roots; they must be spread 
out on all sides, carefully combing them out with the 
fingers, so that they all lay out to the best advantage. 
Any roots that have been bruised, or have broken or 
jagged ends, are cut ofif with a sharp knife on the home- 
ward side of the injury. Most gardeners when they 
plant, after the first spadeful or two has been thrown 
over the root, shake the bush with an up and down 
joggling movement This is useful in the case of plants 
with a good lot of bushy root, such as Berberis, helping 
to get the grains of earth well in among the root ; but 
in tree planting, where the roots are laid out flat, it is of 
course useless. In our light soil, the closer and firmer 
the earth is made round the newly-planted tree the 
better, and strong staking is most important, in order to 
save the newly-placed root from distinrbance by dragging. 


Some trees and shrubs one can only get from 
nuiseries in pots. Such is usuaUy the case with Eex. 
Escallonia, and Cydonia. Suoh plants are sure to have 
the roots badly matted and twisted. The main root 
curls painfcdly round and round inside the imprisoning 
pot, but if it is a clever root it works its way out 
through the hole in the bottom, and even makes 
quite nice roots in the bed of ashes it has stood on. 
In this case, as these are probably its best roots, we 
do not attempt to pull it back through the hole, but 
break the pot to release it without hurt. If it is 
possible to straighten the pot-curled root, it is best 
to do so; in any case, the small fibrous ones can be 
laid out. Often the potful of roots is so hard and 
tight that it cannot be disentangled by the hand ; then 
the only way is to soften it by gentle bumping on the 
bench, and then to disengage the roots by little care- 
ful digs all round with a blunt-pointed stick. If this 
is not done, and the plant is put in in its pot-bound 
state, it never gets on ; it would have been just as weU 
to throw it away at once. 

Nine years ago a hedge of Lawson's Cypress was 
planted on one side of the kitchen garden. Three 
years later, when the trees had made some growth, 
I noticed in the case of three or four that they were 
quite bare of branches on one side all the way up for 
a width of about one-sixth of the circumference, leav- 
ing a smooth, straight, upright strip. Suspecting the 
cause, I had them up, and found in eveiy case that the 


root just below the bare strip had been doubled under 
the stem, and had therefore been unable to do its share 
of the work. Nothing could have pointed out more 
clearly the defect in the planting. 

There are cases where groimd cannot be prepared 
as one would wish, and where one has to get over the 
difficulty the best way one can. Such a case occurred 
when I had to plant some Yews and Savins right imder 
a large Birch-tree. The Birch is one of several large 
ones that nearly surround the lawn. This one stands 
lust within the end of a largfe shrub-clump, near the 
'pl^e of n,««^ of »mo pa^^th *e gri .nd ,iU> 
some planting ; here some further planting was wanted 
of dark-leaved evergreens. There is no tree more 
ground-robbing than a Birch, and imder the tree in 
question the groimd was dust-dry, extremely hard, and 
nothing but the poorest sand. Looking at the foot of 
a large tree one can always see which way the main 
roots go, and the only way to get down any depth is 
to go between these and not many feet away from the 
trunk. Farther away the roots spread out and would 
receive more injury. So the groimd was got up the 
best way we could, and the Yews and Savins planted. 
Now, after some six years, they are healthy and dark- 
coloured, and have made good growth. But in such a 
place one cannot expect the original preparation of the 
ground, such as it was, to go for much. The year after 
planting they had some strong, lasting manure just 
pricked in over the roots — stuff from the shoeing-forge. 


full of hoof-parings. Hoof-parings are rich in ammonia, 
and decay slowly. Every other year they have either 
a repetition of this or some cooling cow manure. The 
big Birch no doubt gets some of it, though its himgriest 
roots are farther afield, but the rich colour of the 
shrubs shows that they are well nourished. 

As soon as may be in November the big hardy 
flower-border has to be thoroughly looked over. The 
first thing is to take away all "soft stuflT." This in- 
cludes all dead annuals and biennials and any tender 
things that have been put in for the summer, also Paris 
Daisies, Zinnias, French and African Marigolds, Heli- 
chrysums. Mulleins, and a few Geraniums. Then Dahlias 
are cut down. The waste stuff is laid in big heaps on 
the edge of the lawn just across the footpath, to be 
loaded into the donkey-cart and shot into some large 
holes that have been dug up in the wood, whose story 
will be told later. 

The Dahlias are now dug up from the border, and 
others collected from different parts of the garden. 
The labels are tied on to the short stumps that remain, 
and the roots are laid for a time on the floor of a shed. 
If the weather has been rainy just before taking them 
up, it is well to lay them upside down, so that any wet 
there may be about the bases of the large hollow stalks 
may drain out. They are left for perhaps a fortnight 
without shaking out the earth that holds between the 
tubers, so that they may be fairly diy before they are 
put away for the winter in a cellar. 


Then we go back to the flower border and dig out 
all the plants that have to be divided every year. It 
will also be the turn for some others that only want 
division every two or three or more years, as the case 
may be. First, out come all the perennial Sunflowers, 
These divide themselves into two classes ; those whose 
roots make close clumpy masses, and those that throw 
out long stolons ending in a blunt snout, which is the 
growing crown for next year. To the first division 
belong the old double Sunflower {Hdianthus mvltiJloms\ 
of which I only keep the well-shaped variety Soleil d'Or, 
and the much taller large-flowered single kind, and a 
tall pale-yellow flowered one with a dark stem, whose 
name I do not know. It is not one of the kinds 
thought much of, and as usually grown has not much 
effect ; but I plant it at the back and pull it down over 
other plants that have gone out of flower, so that instead 
of having only a few flowers at the top of a rather bare 
stem eight feet high, it is a spreading cloud of pale 
yellow bloom ; the training down, as m the case of so 
many other plants, inducing it to throw up a short 
flowering stalk from the axil of every leaf along the 
stem. The kinds with the running roots are Hdianthus 
rigidus, and its giant variety Miss Mellish, H. decapetalvs 
and ff. IcBtifiorus. I do not know how it may be in 
other gardens, but in mine these must be replanted 
every year. 

Phloxes must also be taken up. They are always 
difficult here, unless the season is unusually rainy; 


in dry summers, even with mnlching and watering, 
I camiot keep them from drying up. The outside 
pieces are cut off and the woody middle thrown away. 
It is surprising what a tiny bit of Phlox will make a 
strong flowering plant in one season. The kinds I 
like best are the pure whites and the salmon-reds; 
but two others that I find very pretty and useful 
are Eugenie, a good mauve, and Le Soleil, a strong 
pink, of a colour as near a really good pink as in any 
Phlox I know. Both of these have a neat and rather 
short habit of growth. I do not have many Michael- 
mas Daisies in the flower border, only some early ones 
that flower within September; of these there are the 
white-flowered A. panictdattts, S/iortU, acris, and amellus. 
These of course come up, and any patches of Gladiolus 
are collected, to be dried for a time and then stored. 

The next thing is to look through the border for 
the plants that require occasional renewal. In the 
front I find that a longish patch of Hev/ihera Richard- 
soni has about half the plants overgrown. These must 
come up, and are cut to pieces. It is not a nice plant 
to divide; it has strong middle crowns, and though 
there are many side ones, they are attached to the 
main ones too high up to have roots of their own ; but 
I boldly slice down the main stocky stem with straight 
downward cuts, so as to give a piece of the thick stock 
to each side bit. I have done this both in winter and 
spring, and find the spring rather the best, if not 
followed by drought. Groups of Anemone japoniea and 


of Polygonum compactum are spreading beyond bounds 
and must be reduced. Neither of these need be 
entirely taken up. Without going into further detail, 
it may be of use to note how often I find it advisable 
to lift and divide some of the more prominent hardy 

Every year I divide Michaelmas Daisies, Grolden- 
rod, HdiarUhus, Fhlox, Chrysanthemum maximum, Sele- 
nium pumilum, Pyrethrum tdiginosum, ArUhemis iinctoria, 
Monarda, Lychnis, Primula, except P. denticulata, rosea, 
and auricula, which stand two years. 

Every two years, White Pinks, Cranesbills, Spircea, 
Aconitum, GaiUardia, Coreopsis, Chrysanthemum indicum, 
Gaiega, Doronicum, Nepeta, Geum aureum, (Enothera 
Ybungi, and (E, riparia. 

Every three years, Tritoma, Megasea, CentrarUhus, 
Vinca, Iris, Narcissus. 

A plasterer s hammer is a tool that is very handy 
£0. d,l^ P...U. I. h.. . U^. ^ J«id« o' 
the head, and a cutting blade like a small chopper on 
the other. With this and a cold chisel and a strong 
knife one can divide any roots in comfort. I never 
divide things by brutaUy chopping them across with 
a spade. Plants that have soft fleshy tubers like 
Dahlias and Pseonies want the cold chisel; it can be 
cleverly inserted among the crowns so that injury to 
the tubers is avoided, and it is equally useful in the 
case of some plants whose points of attachment are 
almost as hard as wire, like Orobu^ vemu^, or as tough 


•as a door-mat, like Iris gramineus. The Michaelmas 
Daisies of the Novce Anglice section make root tufts too 
olose and hard to be cut with a knife, and here the 
•chopper of the plasterer's hammer comes in. Where 
the crowns are closely crowded, as in this Aster, I find 
it best to chop at the bottom of the tuft, among the 
roots ; when the chopper has cut about two-thirds 
through, the tuft can be separated with the hands, 
dividing naturally between the crowns, whereas if 
ohopped from the top many crowns would have been 

Tritomas want dividing with care ; it always looks 
as if one could pull every crown apart, but there is a 
tender point at the " collar," where they easily break 
off short ; with these also it is best to chop from below 
or to use the chisel, making the cut well down in the 
yellow rooty region. Veratrums divide much in the 
jsame way, wanting a careful cut low down, the points 
of their crowns being also very easy to break off. The 
Christmas Rose is one of the most awkward plants to 
divide successfully. It cannot be done in a hurry. 
The only safe way b to wash the clumps well out 
and look carefully for the points of attachment, and 
cut them either with knife or chisel, according to their 
position. In this case the chisel should be narrower 
and sharper. Three-year-old tufts of St. Bruno's Lily 
puzzled me at first. The rather fleshy roots are so 
tightly interlaced that cutting is out of the question ; 
but I found out that if the tuft is held tight in the 


two hands, and the hands are worked opposite ways 
with a rotary motion of about a quarter of a circle, 
that they soon come apart without being hurt in the 
least. Delphiniums easily break off at the crown if 
they are broken up by hand, but the roots cut so easily 
that it ought not to be a difficulty. 

There are some plants in whose case one can never 
be sure whether they will divide well or not, such as 
Oriental Poppies and Eryngium Olivieranum. They 
behave in nearly the same way. Sometimes a Poppy 
or an Eryngium comes up with one thick root, impos- 
sible to divide, while the next door plant has a number 
of roots that are ready to drop apart like a bunch of 

Everlasting Peas do nearly the same. One may 
dig up two plants — own brothers of say seven years 
old — and a rare job it is, for they go straight down 
into the earth nearly a yard deep. One of them will 
have a straight black post of a root 2^ inches thick 
without a break of any sort till it forks a foot under- 
ground, while the other will be a sort of loose rope of 
separate roots from half to three-quarters of an inch 
thick, that if carefully followed down and cleverly 
dissected where they join, will make strong plants at 
once. But the usual way to get yoimg plants of Ever- 
lasting Pea is to look out in earliest spring for the 
many young growths that will be shooting, for these 
if taken off with a good bit of the white underground 
stem will root under a hand-light. 


Most of the Primrose tribe divide pleasantly and 
easily : the worst are the auricula section ; with these, 
for outdoor planting, one often has to slice a main root 
down to give a share of root to the offset. 

Where one is digging up plants with nmning roots, 
such as Gaultheria, Honeysuckle, Polygonum, Scotch 
Briars, and many of the Bvhus tribe, or what is better, 
if one person is digging while another pulls up, it 
never does for the one who is pulling to give a steady 
haul ; this is sure to end in breakage, whereas a root 
comes up willingly and unharmed in loosened ground 
to a succession of firm but gentle tugs, and one soon 
learns to suit the weight of the pulls to the strength 
of the plant, and to learn its breaking strain. 

Towards the end of October outdoor flowers in any- 
thing like quantity cannot be expected, and yet there 
are patches of bloom here and there in nearly every 
comer of the garden. The pretty Mediterranean Peri- 
winkle {Virica acutiflora) is in full bloom. As with 
many another southern plant that in its own home 
likes a cool and shady place, it prefers a simny one in 
our latitude. The flowers are of a pale and delicate 
grey-blue colour, nearly as large as those of the com- 
mon Vinca major, but they are borne more generously 
as to numbers on radical shoots that form thick, healthy- 
looking tufts of polished green foliage. It is not very 
common in gardens, but distinctly desirable. 

In the bulb-beds the bright-yellow Sternbergia lutea 
is in flower. At first sight it looks something like a 


Crocus of unusually firm and solid substance ; but it is 
an Amaryllis, and its pure and even yellow colouring 
is quite unlike that of any of the Crocuses. The 
nujnerous upright leaves are thick, deep green, and 
glossy. It flowers rather shyly in our poor soil, 
even in well-made beds, doing much better in chalky 

Czar Violets are giving their fine and fragrant 
flowers on stalks nine inches long. To have them 
at their best they must be carefully cultivated and 
liberally enriched. No plants answer better to good 
treatment, or spoil more quickly by neglect. A miser- 
able sight is a forgotten violet-bed where they have 
run together into a tight mat, giving only few and 
poor flowers. I have seen the owner of such a bed 
stand over it and blame the plants, when he should 
have laid the lash on his own shoulders. Violets must 
be replanted every year. When the last rush of bloom 
in March is over, the plants are pulled to pieces, and 
strong single crowns from the outer edges of the 
clumps, or from the later runners, are replanted in 
good, well-manured soil, in such a place as will be 
somewhat shaded from summer sun. There should 
be eighteen inches between each plant, and as they 
make their growth, all runners should be cut off until 
August. They are encouraged by liberal doses of 
liquid manure from time to time, and watered in case 
of drought; and the heart of the careful gardener is 
warmed and gratified when friends, seeing them at 


midsummer, say (as has more than once Jiappened), 
" What a nice batch of yomig Hollyhocks ! " 

In this simple matter of the culture of this good 
hardy Violet, my garden, though it is full of limita- 
tions, and in all ways falls short of any worthy ideal, 
enables me here and there to point out something 
that is worth doing, and to lay stress on the fact that 
the things worth doing are worth taking trouble about. 
But it is a curious thing that many people, even 
among those who profess to know something about 
gardening, when I show them something fairly sue- 
cessful — the crowning reward of much care and labour 
— refuse to believe that any pains have been taken 
about it. They will ascribe it to chance, to the good- 
ness of my soil, and even more commonly to some 
supposed occult influence of my own — to anything 
rather than to the plain fact that I love it well enough 
to give it plenty of care and labour. They assume 
a tone of complimentary banter, kindly meant no 
doubt, but to me rather distasteful, to this effect : 
" Oh yes, of course it will grow for you ; anything will 
grow for you; you have only to look at a thing and 
it will grow." I have to pump up a laboured smile 
and accept the remark with what grace I can, as a 
necessary civility to the stranger that is within my 
gates, but it seems to me evident that those who say 
these things do not imderstand the love of a garden. 

I could not help rejoicing when such a visitor 
came to me one October. I had been saying how 


necessary good and deep cultivation was, especially in 
so very poor and shallow a soil as mine. Passing up 
through the copse where there were some tall stems 
of Lilium giganteum bearing the great upturned pods 
of seed, my visitor stopped and said, " I don't believe 
a word about your poor soil — look at the growth of 
that Lily. Nothing could make that great stem ten 
feet high in a poor soil, and there it is, just stuck 
into the wood ! " I said nothing, knowing that 
presently I could show a better answer than I could 
frame in words. A little farther up in the copse we 
came upon an excavation about twelve feet across 
and four deep, and by its side a formidable mound 
of sand, when my friend said, " Why are you making 
all this mess in your pretty wood ? are you quarrying 
stone, or is it for the cellar of a building ? and what 
on earth are you going to do with that great heap of 
sand ? why, there must be a dozen loads of it." That 
was my moment of secret triumph, but I hope I bore 
it meekly as I answered, " I only wanted to plant a 
few more of those big Lilies, and you see in my soil 
they would not have a chance unless the ground was 
thoroughly prepared; look at the edge of the scarp 
and see how the solid yellow sand comes to within 
four inches of the top ; so I have a big wide hole dug ; 
and look, there is the donkey-cart coming with the 
first load of Dahlia-tops and soft plants that have been 
for the summer in the south border. There will be 
several of those little cartloads, each holding three 


barrowfiils. As it comes into the hole, the men will 
chop it with the spade and tread it down close, mixing 
in a little sand. This will make a nice cool^ moist 
bottom of slowly - rotting vegetable matter. Some 
more of the same kind of waste will come from the 
kitchen garden — cabbage-stumps, bean-haulm, soft 
weeds that have been hoed up, and all the greenest 
stuff jfrom the rubbish-heap. Every layer will be 
chopped and pounded, and tramped down so that 
there should be as little sinking as possible afterwards. 
By this time the hole will be filled to within a foot of 
the top ; and now we must get together some better 
stuff — road-scrapings and trimmings mixed with some 
older rubbish-heap mould, and for the top of all, some 
of our precious loam, and the soil of an old hotbed 
and some well-decayed manure, all well mixed, and 
then we are ready for the Lilies. They are planted 
only just underground, and then the whole bed has a 
surfacing of dead leaves, which helps to keep down 
weeds, and also looks right with the surroimding wild 
ground. The remains of the heap of sand we must 
deal with how we can; but there are hollows here 
and there in the roadway and paths, and a place that 
can be levelled up in the rubbish-yard, and some 
kitchen-garden paths that will bear raising, and so by 
d^ees it is disposed of.'' 



Giant Christmae Boee — Hardy Chrysanthemums — Sheltering tender 
shrubs — Turfing by inoculation — Transplanting large trees — 
Sir Henry Steuart's experience early in the century — Col- 
lecting fallen leaves — Preparing grubbing tools — Butcher'fr 
Broom — Alexandrian Laurel — Hollies and Birches — A lesson 
in planting. 

The giant Christmas Rose (Helleborvs maximus) is in 
full flower ; it is earlier than the true Christmas Rose^ 
being at its best by the middle of November. It is a 
large and massive flower, but compared with the later 
kinds has a rather coarse look. The bud and the back 
of the flower are rather heavily tinged with a dull 
pink, and it never has the pure-white colouring through- 
out of the later ones. 

I have taken some pains to get together some 
really hardy November - blooming Chrysanthemums. 
The best of all is a kind frequent in neighbouring 
cottage-gardens, and known hereabouts as Cottage Pink. 
I believe it is identical with Emperor of China, a very 
old sort that used to be frequent in greenhouse culti- 
vation before it was supplanted by the many good 
kinds now grown. But its place is not indoors, but in. 



tlie open garden ; if agamst a south or west wall, so 
much the better. Perhaps one year in seven the bloom 
may be spoilt by such a severe frost as that of October 
1895, but it will bear unharmed several degrees of 
frost and much rain. I know no Chrysanthemum of 
so true a pink colour, the colour deepening to almost 
crimson in the centre. After the first frost the foliage 
of this kind turns to a splendid colour, the green of 
the leaves giving place to a rich crimson that some- 
times clouds the outer portion of the leaf, and often 
covers its whole expanse. The stiff, wholesome foliage 
adds much to the beauty of the outdoor kinds, con- 
trasting most agreeably with the limp, mildewed leafage 
of those indoors. Following Cottage Pink is a fine 
pompone called Soleil d'Or, in colour the richest deep 
orange, with a still deeper and richer coloured centre. 
The beautiful crimson Julie Lagrav^re flowers at the 
same time. Both are nearly frost-proof, and true hardy 
November flowers. 

The first really frosty day we go to the upper part 
of the wood and cut out from among the many yoimg 
Scotch Firs as many as we think will be wanted for 
sheltering plants and shrubs of doubtful hardiness. 
One section of the high wall at the back of the flower 
border is planted with rather tender things, so that the 
whole is covered with sheltering fir-bough& Here are 
Loquat, Fuchsia, Pomegranate, Edwardsia, Piptanthits, 
and Choisya, and in the narrow border at the foot of 

the wall, Crinum, Nandina, GUrodendron^ and Hydrangea, 



In the broad border in £ront of the wall nothing needs 
protection except Tritomas ; these have cones of coal- 
ashes heaped over each plant or clump. The Crinums 
also have a few inches of ashes over them. 

Some large Hydrangeas in tubs are moved to a 
sheltered place and put close together, a mound of 
sand being shovelled up all round to nearly the depth 
of the tubs ; then a wall is made of thatched hurdles, 
and dry fern is packed well in among the heads of 
the plants. They would be better in a frost-proof 
shed, but we have no such place to spare. 

The making of a lawn is a difficulty in our very poor 
sandy soil. In this rather thickly-populated coimtry 
the lords of the manor had been so much pestered for 
grants of road-side turf, and the privilege when formerly 
given had been so much abused, that they have agreed 
together to refuse all applications. Opportunities of 
buying good turf do not often occur, and sowing is slow, 
and not satisfactory. I am told by a seedsman of the 
highest character that it is almost impossible to get 
grass seed clean and true to name from the ordinary 
sources ; the leading men therefore have to grow their 

In my own case, having some acres of rough heath 
and copse where the wild grasses are of fine-leaved 
kmds, I made the lawn by inoculation. The groimd 
was trenched and levelled, then well trodden and raked, 
and the surface stones collected. Tufts of the wild 
grass were then forked up, and were pulled into pieces 


about the size of the palm of one's hand, and laid down 
eight inches apart, and well rolled in. During the 
following sununer we collected seed of the same grasses 
to sow early in spring in any patchy or bare places. 
One year after planting the patches had spread to 
double their size, and by the second year had nearly 
joined together. The grasses were of two kinds only, 
namely, Sheep's Fescue (Festtuui ovina) and Crested 
Dog's-tail {Agrostis canina). They make a lawn of 
a quiet, low-toned colour, never of the bright green of 
the rather coarser grasses; but in this case I much 
prefer it ; it goes better with the Heath and Fir and 
Bracken that belong to the place. In point of labour, 
a lawn made of these fine grasses has the great merit 
of only wanting mowing once in three weeks. 

I have never undertaken the transplanting of large 
trees, but there is no doubt that it may be done with 
success, and in laying out a new place where the site 
is bare, if suitable trees are to be had, it is a plan 
much to be recommended. It has often been done 
of late years, but until a Mend drew my attention to 
an article in the Qiiarterly Beview, dated March 1828, 
I had no idea that it had been practised on a large 
scale so early in the century. The article in question 
was a review of " The Planter's Guide," by Sir Henry 
Steuart, Bart., LL.D. (Edinburgh, 1828.) It quoted 
the opinion and observation of a committee of gentle- 
men, among whom was Sir Walter Scott, who visited 


Allanton (Sir Heniy Steuart's place) in September 
1828, when the trees had been some years planted. 
They found them growing " with vigour and luxuriance, 
and in the most exposed situations making shoots of 
eighteen inches. . . . From the facts which they wit- 
nessed the committee reported it as their unanimous 
opinion that the art of transplantation, as practised by 
Sir Henry Steuart, is calculated to accelerate in an 
extraordinary degree the power of raising wood, whether 
for beauty or shelter." 

The reviewer then quotes the method of trans- 
plantation, describing the extreme care with which 
the roots are preserved, men with picks carefoUy 
trying round the ground beneath the outer circmn- 
ference of the branches for the most outlying rootlets, 
and then gradually approaching the bole. The greatest 
care was taken not to injure any root or fibre, these 
as they were released, from the earth being tied up, 
and finally the transplanting machine, consisting of a 
strong pole moimted on high wheels, was brought close 
to the trunk and attached to it, and the tree when 
lowered, carefully transported to its new home. Every 
layer of roots was then replanted with the utmost care, 
with delicate fingering and just sufficient ramming, 
and in the end the tree stood without any artificial 
support whatever, and in positions exposed to the 
fiercest gales. 

The average size of tree dealt with seems to have 
had a trunk about a foot in diameter, but some were 


removed with complete success whose trunks were two 
feet thick. In order that his trees might be the better 
balanced in shape, Sir Henry boldly departed from the 
older custom of replanting a tree in its original aspect, 
for he reversed the aspect, so that the more stimted 
and shorter-twigged weather side now became the lee 
side, and could grow more freely. 

He insists strongly on the wisdom of transplanting 
only well-weathered trees, and not those of tender con- 
stitution that had been sheltered by standing among 
other close growths, pointing out that these have a 
tenderer bark and taller top and roots less well able to 
bear the strain of wind and weather in the open. 

He reckons that a transplanted tree is in full new 
growth by the fourth or fifth year, and that an advan- 
tage equal to from thirty to forty years' growth is 
gained by the system. As for the expense of the 
work. Sir Henry estimated that his largest trees each 
cost from ten to thirteen shillings to take up, remove 
half a mile, and replant. In the case of large trees 
the ground that was to receive them was prepared a 
twelvemonth beforehand. 

Now, in the third week of November, the most 
pressing work is the collecting of leaves for mulching 
and leaf-mould. The oaks have been late in shedding 
their leaves, and we have been waiting till they are down. 
Oak-leaves are the best, then hazel, elm, and Spanish 
chestnut. Birch and beech are not so good; beech-leaves 


especially take much too long to decay. This is, no 
doubt, the reason why nothing grows willingly under 
beeches. Horse and cart and three hands go out into 
the lanes for two or three days, and the loads that 
come home go three feet deep into the bottom of a 
range of pits. The leaves are trodden down close and 
covered with a layer of mould, in which winter salad 
stuff is immediately planted. The mass of leaves will 
soon begin to heat, and will give a pleasant bottom-heat 
throughout the winter. Other loads of leaves go into 
an open pen about ten feet square and five feet deep. 
Two such pens, made of stout oak post and rail and 
upright slabs, stand side by side in the garden yard. 
The one newly filled has just been emptied of its two- 
year-old leaf-mould, which has gone as a nourishing 
and protecting mulch over beds of Daffodils and choice 
bulbs and Alstr5merias, some being put aside in reserve 
for potting and various uses. The other pen remains 
full of the leaves of last year, slowly rotting into whole- 
some plant-food. 

With works of wood-cutting and stiunp-grubbing 
near at hand, we look over the tools and see that all 
are in readiness for winter work. Axes and hand-bills 
are ground, fag-hooks sharpened, picks and mattocks 
sent to the smithy to be drawn out, the big cross-cut 
saw fresh sharpened and set, and the hand-saws and 
frame-saws got ready. The rings of the bittle are 
tightened and wedged up, so that its heavy head may 
not split when the mighty blows, flung into the tool 

i Stokinc Dbad Leaves. 

Careful Wild-Gaedenihg— WnrxB Voj 

THE FiK Wood. {Stefag^ 270.) 


with a man's fall strength, fall on the heads of the 
great iron wedges. 

Some thinning of birch-trees has to be done in 
the lowest part of the copse, not far from the house. 
They are rather evenly distributed on the ground^ 
and I wish to get them into groups by cutting away 
superfluous trees. On the neighbouring moorland and 
heathy uplands they are apt to grow naturally in 
groups, the individual trees generally bending out- 
ward towards the free, open space, the whole group 
taking a form that is graceful and highly pictorial. 
I hope to be able to cut out trees so as to leave the 
remainder standing in some such way. But as a tree 
once cut cannot be put up again, the condemned ones 
are marked with bands of white paper right round 
the trunks, so that they can be observed from all 
sides, thus to give a chance of reprieve to any tree 
that from any point of view may have pictorial value. 

Frequent in some woody districts in the south of 
England, though local, is the Butcher's Broom (litucus 
aculeatus). Its stiff green branches that rise straight 
from the root bear small, hard leaves, armed with a 
sharp spine at the end. The flower, which comes in 
early summer, is seated without stalk in the middle of 
the leaf, and is followed by a large red berry. In 
country places where it abounds, butchers use the 
twigs tied in bunches to brush the little chips of 
meat off their great chopping-blocks, that are made 
of solid sections of elm trees, standing three and a half 


feet high and about two and a half feet across. Its 
beautiful garden relative, the Alexandrian or Victory 
Laurel (Buscus racemosus), is also now just at its best. 
Nothing makes a more beautiful wreath than two of 
its branches, suitably arched and simply bound together 
near the butts and free ends. It is not a laurel, but a 
BuscuSy the name laurel having probably grown on to 
it by old association with any evergreen suitable for a 
victor's wreath. It is a slow-growing plant, but in 
time makes handsome tufts of its graceful branches. 
Few plants are more exquisitely modelled, to use a 
term familiar to the world of fine art, or give an effect 
of more delicate and perfect finish. It is a valuable 
plant in a shady place in good, cool soil Early in 
summer, when the yoimg growths appear, the old, then 
turning rusty, should be cut away. 

No trees group together more beautifully than 
Hollies and Birches. One such happy mixtiire in one 
part of the copse suggested further plantings of Holly, 
Birches being already in abundance. Every year some 
more Hollies are planted ; those put in nine years ago 
are now fifteen feet high, and are increasing fast. 
They are slow to begin growth after transplanting, 
perhaps because in our very light soil they cannot 
be moved with a ''ball"; all the soil shakes away, 
and leaves the root naked ; but after about three 
years, when the roots have got good hold and begun 
to ramble, they grow away well. The trunk of an 
old Holly has a smooth pale-grey bark, and sometimes 

^^ Old Hei>oe-Row. 


a slight twist, that makes it look like the gigantic 
bone of some old-world monster. The leaves of some 
old trees, especially if growing in shade, change their 
shape, losing the side prickles and becoming longer 
and nearly flat and more of a dark bottle-green colour, 
while the lower branches and twigs, leafless except 
towards their ends, droop down in a graceful line that 
rises again a little at the tip. 

The leaves are all down by the last week of 
November, and woodland assumes its winter aspect ; 
perhaps one ought rather to say, some one of its 
infinite variety of aspects, for those who live in such 
country know how many are the winter moods of 
forest land, and how endless are its variations of 
atmospheric effect and pictorial beauty — variations 
much greater and more numerous than are possible 
in summer. 

With the wind in the south-west and soft rain 
about, the twigs of the birches look almost crimson, 
while the dead bracken at their foot, half-draggled 
and sodden with wet, is of a strong, dark rust colour. 
Now one sees the full value of the good evergreens, 
and, rambling through woodland, more especially of 
the Holly, whether in bush or tree form, with its 
masses of strong green colour, dark and yet never 
gloomy. Whether it is the high polish of the leaves, 
or the lively look of their wavy edges, with the short 
prickles set alternately up and down, or the brave way 
the tree has of shooting up among other thick growth. 


or its massiye sturdiness on a bare hillside, one cannot 
say, but a Holly in early winter, even without berries, 
is always a cheering sight. John Evelyn is eloquent 
in his praise of this grand evergreen, and lays special 
emphasis on this quality of cheerfulness. 

Near my home is a little wild valley, whose plant- 
ing, wholly done by Nature, I have all my life regarded 
with the most reverent admiration. 

The arable fields of an upland farm give place to 
hazel copses as the ground rises. Through one of 
these a deep narrow lane, cool and dusky in summer 
W i., 4 s^ep bank, .ad „™. Jhiag foli.g* 
leads by a rather sudden turn into the lower end of 
the little valley. Its grassy bottom is only a few yards 
wide, and its sides rise steeply right and left. Look- 
mg upward through groups of wild bushes and small 
trees, one sees thickly-wooded ground on the higher 
levek. The soU is of the very poorest ; ridges of pure 
yellow sand are at the mouths of the many rabbit- 
burrows. The grass is of the short fine kuids of the 
heathy uplands. Bracken grows low, only from one 
to two feet high, giving evidence of the poverty of 
the soil, and yet it seems able to grow in perfect 
beauty clumps of Jimiper and Thorn and Holly, and 
Scotch Fir on the higher ground. 

On the steeply-risinfi" banks are large croups of 
JuBiper. some t^' soZ spreading, some W and 
wreathed about with tangles of Honeysuckle, now in 
brown winter dress, and there are a few bushes of 


Spindle-tree, whose green stems and twigs look strangely 
green in winter. The Thorns stand some singly, 
some in close companionship, impenetrable masses 
of short-twigged prickly growth, with here and there 
a wild Rose shooting straight up through the crowded 
branches. One thinks how lovely it will be in early 
June, when the pink Rose-wreaths are tossing out of 
the foamy sea of white Thorn blossom. The Hollies 
are towering masses of health and vigour. Some of 
the groups of Thorn and Holly are intermingled ; all 
show beautiful arrangements of form and colour, such 
as are never seen in planted places. The track in the 
narrow valley trends steadily upwards and bears a 
little to the right. High up on the left-hand side is 
an old wood of Scotch Fir. A few detached trees come 
half-way down the valley bank to meet the gnarled, 
moss-grown Thorns and the silver-green Junipers. As 
the way rises some Birches come in sight, also at home 
in the sandy soil. Their graceful, lissome spray moving 
to the wind looks active among the stiffer trees, and 
their white stems shine out in startling contrast to 
the other dusky foliage. So the narrow track leads 
on, showing the same kinds of tree and bush in end- 
less variety of beautiful grouping, imder the sombre 
half-light of the winter day. It is afternoon, and as 
one moimts higher a pale bar of yellow light gleams 
between the farther tree-stems, but all above is grey, 
with angry, blackish drifts of ragged wrack. Now the 
valley opens out to a nearly level space of rough 


grass, with grey tufts that will be pink bell-heather 
in summer, and upstanding clumps of sedge that tell 
of hoggy places. In front and to the right are dense 
fir-woods. To the left is broken ground and a steep- 
sided hill, towards whose shoulder the track rises. 
Here are still the same kinds of trees, but on the 
open hillside they have quite a different effect. Now 
I look into the ruddy heads of the Thorns, bark and 
fruit both of rich warm colouring, and into the upper 
masses of the Hollies, also reddening into wealth of 

Throughout the walk, pacing slowly but steadily 
for nearly an hour, only these few kinds of treea have 
been seen, Jimiper, Holly, Thorn, Scotch Fir, and Birch 
(a few small Oaks excepted), and yet there has not 
been once the least feeling of monotony, nor, returning 
downward by the same path, could one wish anything 
to be altered or suppressed or differently grouped. And 
I have always had the same feeling about any quite 
wild stretch of forest land. Such a bit of wild forest 
as this small valley and the hilly land beyond are 
precious lessons in the best kind of tree and shrub 
planting. No artificial planting can oyer equal that 
of Nature, but one may learn from it the great lesson 
of the importance of moderation and reserve, of sim- 
plicity of intention, and directness of purpose, and the 
inestimable value of the quality called "breadth" in 
painting. For planting groimd is painting a land- 
scape with living things; and as I hold that good 


gardening takes rank within the bounds of the fine 
arts^ 80 I hold that to plant well needs an artist of 
no mean capacity. And his difficulties are not slight 
ones, for his living picture must be right from all 
points^ and in all lights. 

No doubt the planting of a large space with a 
limited number of kinds of trees cannot be trusted 
to all hands, for in those of a person without taste 
or the more finely-trained perceptions the result would 
be very likely dull or even absurd. It is not the 
paint that make the picture, but the braiQ and heart 
and hand of the man who uses it. 



The woodman at work — Tree-cutting in froety weather — Preparing 
sticks and stakes — ^Winter Jasmine — Ferns in the wood-walk 
— ^Winter colour of evergreen shrubs— Copse-cutting — Hoop- 
making — Toob used — Sizes of hoops — Men camping out — 
Thatching with hoop-chips — ^The old thatcher's bilL 

It is good to watch a clever woodman and see how 

much he can do with his simple tools, and how easily 

one man alone can deal with heavy pieces of timber. An 

oak tnmk, two feet or more thick, and weighing perhaps 

a ton, lies on the gromid, the branches being already 

cut off. He has to cleave it into four, and to remove it 

to the side of a lane one himdred feet away. Hia tools 

are an axe and one iron wedge. The first step is the 

most difficult — to cut such a nick in the sawn surface 

of the butt of the tnmk as will enable the wedge to 

stick in. He holds the wedge to the cut and hanmiers 

it gently with the back of the axe till it just holds, 

then he tries a moderate blow, and is quite prepared 

for what is almost sure to happen — the wedge springs 

out backwards; very likely it springs out for three 

or four trials, but at last the wedge bites and he 

can give it the dexterous, righdy-placed blows that 


The Woodman. 


slowly driye it in. Before the wedge is in half its 

length a creaking sound is heard; the fibres are be- 

ginning to tear, and a narrow rift shows on each side i 

of the iron. A few more strokes and the sound of 

the rending fibres is louder and more continuous, with 

sudden cracking noises, that tell of the parting of 

larger bundles of fibres, that had held together till 

the tremendous rending power of the wedge at last 

burst them asimder. Now the man looks out a bit 

of strong branch about four inches thick, and with the 

tree-trunk as a block and the axe held short in one 

hand as a chopper, he makes a wooden wedge about 

twice the size of the iron one, and drives it into one 

of the openings at its side. For if you have only one 

iron wedge, and you drive it tight into your work, you 

can neither send it farther nor get it out, and you feel 

and look foolish. The wooden wedge driven in releases 

the iron one, which is sent in afresh against the side 

of the wedge of oak, the tnmk meanwhile rending 

slowly apart with much grieving and complaining of 

the tearing fibres. As the rent opens the axe cuts 

across diagonal bundles of fibres that still hold tightly 

across the widening rift And so the work goes on, 

the man unconsciously exercising his knowledge of 

his craft in placing and driving the wedges, the 

helpless wood groaning and creaking and finally 

falling apart as the last holding fibres are severed 

by the axe. Meanwhile the raw green wood gives 

off a delicious scent, sweet and sharp and refreshing, 


not unlike the smell of apples crushing in the cider- 

The woodman has still to rend the two halves 
of the trunk, but the work is not so heavy and goes 
more quickly. Now he has to shift them to the side 
of the rough track that serves as a road through the 
wood. They are so heavy that two men could barely 
lift them, and he is alone. He could move them with 
a lever, that he could cut out of a straight young 
tree, a foot or so at a time at each end, but it is a 
slow and clumsy way ; besides, the wood is too much 
encumbered with imdergrowth. So he cuts two short 
pieces from a straight bit of branch four inches or five 
inches thick, levers one of his heavy pieces so that one 
end points to the roadway, prises up this end and 
kicks one of his short pieces under it close to the 
end, settling it at right angles with gentle kicks. The 
other short piece is arranged in the same way, a little 
way beyond the middle of the length of quartered 
trunk. Now, standing behind it, he can run the 
length easily along on the two rollers, till the one 
nearest him is left behind ; this one is then put under 
the front end of the weight, and so on till the road 
is reached. 

Trees that stand where paths are to come, or 
that for any reason have to be removed, root and 
all, are not felled with axe or saw, but are grubbed 
down. The earth is dug away next to the tree^ 
gradually exposing the roots; these are cut through 

u Grubrinq Tools. (Safagi 150.) 


with axe or mattock close to the butt, and again 
about eighteen inches away, so that by degrees a 
deep trench, eighteen inches wide, is excavated round 
the butt. A rope is fastened at the right distance 
up the trunk, when, if the tree does not hold by a 
very strong tap-root, a succession of steady pulls wiU 
bring it down ; the weight of the top thus helping 
to prise the heavy butt out of the ground. We come 
upon many old stumps of Scotch fir, the remains 
of the original wood; they make capital firewood, 
though some bum rather too fiercely, being full of 
turpentine. Many are still quite sound, though it 
must be six-and-twenty years since they were felled. 
They are very hard to grub, with their thick tap- 
roots and far-reaching laterals, and still tougher to 
split up, their fibres are so much twisted, and the 
dark- red heart -wood has become hardened till it 
rings to a blow almost like metal But some, whose 
roots have rotted, come up more easily, and with 
very little digging may be levered out of the ground 
with a long iron stone-bar, ^uch as they use in the 
neighbouring quarries, putting the point of the bar 
imder the "stam," and having a log of wood for a 
hard fulcnun. Or a stout young stem of oak or 
chestnut is used for a lever, passing a chain under 
the stump and over the middle of the bar and prising 
upwards with the lever. " Stam " is the word always 
used by the men for any stump of a tree left in the 


A spell of frosty days at the end of December 
puts a stop to all planting and ground work. Now we 
go into the copse and cut the trees that have been 
provisionally marked, judged, and condemned, with the 
object of leaving the remainder standing in graceful 
groups. The men wonder why I cut some of the 
trees that are best and straightest and have good 
tops, and leave those with leaning stems. Anjrthing 
of seven inches or less diameter is felled with the axe, 
but thicker trees with the cross-cut saw. For these 
our most active fellow climbs up the tree with a rope, 
and makes it fast to the trunk a good way up, then 
two of them, kneeling, work the saw. When it has 
out a third of the way through, the rope is pulled 
on the side opposite the cut to keep it open and let 
the saw work free. When still larger trees are sawn 
down this is done by driving in a wedge behind the 
saw, when the width of the saw-blade is rather more 
than buried in the tree. When the trunk is nearly 
sawn through, it wants care and judgment to see that 
the saw does not get pinched by the weight of the 
tree ; the clumsy workman who fails to clear his saw 
gets laughed at, and probably damages his tool Good 
straight trunks of oak and chestnut are put aside for 
special uses; the rest of the larger stuff is cut into 
oordwood lengths of four feet. The heaviest of these 
are split up into four pieces to make them easier to 
load and carry away, and eventually to saw up into 


The best of the birch tops are cut into pea- 
sticks, a cleyer, slanting cut with the hand -bill 
leaving them pointed and ready for use. Through- 
out the copse are ''stools" of Spanish chestnut, cut 
about once in fiye years. From this we get good 
straight stakes for Dahlias and Hollyhocks, also bean- 
poles; while the rather straight-branched boughs are 
cut into branching sticks for Michaelmas Daisies, and 
special lengths are got ready for yarious kinds of 
plants — Chrysanthemums, Lilies, Pseonies, and so on. 
To provide all this in winter, when other work is 
slack or impossible, is an important matter in the 
economy of a garden, for all gardeners know how 
distressing and harassing it is to find themselves with- 
out the right sort of sticks or stakes in siunmer, 
and what a long job it then seems to have to 
look them up and cut them, of indifferent quality, 
out of dry faggots. By the plan of preparing all in 
winter no precious time is lost, and a tidy withe-boimd 
bundle of the right sort is always at hand. The rest 
of the rough spray and small branching stuff is made 
up into faggots to be chopped up for fire-lighting; 
the country folk still use the old word "bavin" for 
faggots. The middle-sized branches — anything between 
two inches and six inches in diameter — are what the 
woodmen call ''top and lop"; these are also cut into 
convenient lengths, and are stacked in the bam, to 
be cut into billets for next year's fires in any wet or 
frosty weather, when outdoor work is at a standstill. 


What a precious winter flower is the yellow Jasmine 
(Jasminum nudiflorum). Though hard frost spoils the 
flowers then expanded, as soon as milder days come 
the hosts of buds that are awaiting them burst into 
bloom. Its growth is so free and rapid that one has 
no scruple about cutting it freely ; and great branching 
sprays, cut a yard or more long, arranged with branches 
of Alexandrian Laurel or other suitable foliage — ^such 
as Andromeda or Oaultheria— are beautiful as room 

Christmas Roses keep on flowering bravely, in spite 
of our light soil and frequent summer drought, both 
being unfavourable conditions; but bravest of all is 
the blue Algerian Iris (Iris stylosa), flowering freely as 
it does, at the foot of a west wall, in all open weather 
from November till April. 

In the rock-garden at the edge of the copse the 
creeping evergreen Polygala chamcebuxm is quite at 
home in beds of peat among mossy boulders. Where 
it has the ground to itself, this neat little shrub makes 
close tufts only four inches or five inches high, its 
wiry branches being closely set with neat, dark-green, 
box-like leaves; though where it has to struggle for 
life among other low shrubs, as may often be seen in 
the Alps, the branches elongate, and will run bare for 
two feet or three feet to get the leafy end to the light. 
Even now it is thickly set with buds and has a few 
expanded flowers. This bit of rock-garden is mostly 
planted with dwarf shrubs — Skimmia, Bog-myrtle, 


Alpine Rhododendrons, Ghiuit?ieria, and Andromeda^ with 
drifts of hardy ferns between, and only a few " soft " 
plants. But of these, two are now conspicuously 
noticeable for foliage — the hardy Cyclamens and the 
blue Himalayan Poppy (Meeonopsis Wailichi), Every 
winter I notice how bravely the pale woolly foliage of 
this plant bears up against the early winter's frost 
and wet. 

The wood-walk, whose sloping banks are planted 
with hardy ferns in large groups, shows how many of 
our common kinds are good plants for the first half 
of the winter. Now, only a week before Christmas, the 
male fern is still in handsome green masses ; Bleehnum 
is still good, and common Polypody at its best. The 
noble fronds of the Dilated Shield-fern are still in 
fairly good order, and Ceterach in rocky chinks is in 
fullest beauty. Beyond, in large groups, are prosper- 
ous-looking tufts of the Wood-rush {Luzvla sylvatica) ; 
then there is wood as far as one can see, here mostly 
of the silver-stemmed Birch and rich-green Holly, with 
the woodland carpet of dusky low-toned bramble and 
quiet dead leaf and brilliant moss. 

By the middle of December many of the evergreen 
shrubs that thrive in peat are in full beauty of foUage. 
Andromeda Catesbcei is richly coloured with crimson 
clouds and splashes ; Skinmiias are at their best and 
freshest, their bright, light green, leathery foliage defy- 
ing all rigours of temperature or weather. Pemettyas 
are clad in their strongest and deepest green leafage. 


and show a richness and depth of colour only surpassed 
by that of the yew hedges. 

Copse-cutting is one of the harvests of the year for 
labouring men, and all the more profitable that it can 
go on through frosty weather. A handy man can 
earn good wages at piece-work, and better still if he 
can cleave and shave hoops. Hoop-making is quite 
a large industry in these parts, employing many men 
from Michaelmas to March. They are barrel-hoops, 
made of straight poles of six years' growth. The wood 
used is Birch, Ash, Hazel and Spanish Chestnut. Hazel 
is the best, or as my friend in the business says, " Hazel, 
that's the master!" The growths of the copses are 
sold by auction in some near county town, as they 
stand, the buyer clearing them during the winter. 
They are cut every six years, and a good copse of 
Chestnut has been known to fetch £54 an acre. 

A good hoop-maker can earn from twenty to twenty- 
five shillings a week. He sets up his brake, while his 
mate, who will cleave the rods, cuts a post about three 
inches thick, and fixes it into the ground so that it 
stands about three feet high. To steady it he drives 
in another of rather curly shape by its side, so that 
the tops of the two are nearly even, but the foot of 
the curved spur is some nine inches away at the 
bottom, with its top pressing hard against the upright. 
To stiffen it still more he makes a long withe of a 
straight hazel rod, which he twists into a rope by 
holding the butt tightly under his left foot and 


twisting with both hands till the fibres are wrenched 
open and the withe is ready to spring back and wind 
upon itself. With this he binds his two posts together^ 
so that they stand perfectly rigid. On this he cleaves 
the poles, beginning at the butt. The tool is a small 
one-handed adze with a handle like a hammer. A 
rod is usually cleft in two, so that it is only shaved 
on one side ; but sometimes a pole of Chestnut, a very 
quick-growing wood, is large enough to cleave into 
eight, and when the wood is very clean and straight 
they can sometimes get two lengths of fourteen feet 
out of a pole. 

The brake is a strong flat-shaped post of oak set 
up in the ground to lean a Uttle away from the work- 
man. It stands five and a half feet out of the ground. 
A few inches from its upper end it has a shoulder cut 
iu it which acts as the fulcrum for the cross-bar that 
supports the pole to be shaved, and that leans down 
towards the man. The relative position of the two 
parts of the brake reminds one of the mast and yard 
of a lateen-rigged boat. The bar is nicely balanced 
by having a hazel withe bound round a groove at its 
upper short end, about a foot beyond the fulcrum» 
while the other end of the withe is tied round a heavy 
bit of log or stump that hangs clear of the ground and 
just balances the bar, so that it see-saws easily. The 
cleft rod that is to be shaved &es along the bar, and 
an iron pin that passes through the head of the brake 
just above the point where the bar rides over its 


shoulder, nips the hoop as the weight of the stroke 
comes upon it; the least liftmg of the bar releases 
the hoop, which is quickly shifted onwards for a new 
stroke. The shaving tool is a strong two-handled 
draw-knife, much like the tool used by wheelwrights. 
It is hard work, " wunnerful tryin' across the chest" 

The hoops are in several standard lengths, from 
fourteen to two and a half feet. The longest go to 
the West Indies for sugar hogsheads, and some of the 
next are for tacking round pipes of wine. The wine 
is in well-made iron-hooped barrels, but the wooden 
hoops are added to protect them from the jarring 
and bumping when rolled on board ship, and generally 
to save them during storage and transit. These hoops 
are in two sizes, called large and small pipes. A 
thirteen-foot size go to foreign countries for training 
vines on. A large quantity that measure five feet six 
inches, and called " long pinks," are for cement barrels. 
A length of seven feet six inches are used for herring 
barrels, and are called kilderkins, after the name of 
the size of tub. Smaller sizes go for gunpowder barrels, 
and for tacking round packing-cases and tea-chests. 

The men want to make all the time they can in 
the short winter daylight, and often the work is some 
miles from home, so if the weather is not very cold 
they make huts of the bundles of rods and chips, and 
sleep out on the job. I alwajrs admire the neatness 
with which the bundles are fastened up, and the 
strength of the withe-rope that binds them, for sixty 


hoops, or thirty pairs, as they call them, of fourteen 
feet, are a great weight to be kept together by four 
slight hazel bands. 

In this industry there is a useful by-product in 
the shavings or chips, as they call them. They are 
eighteen inches to two feet long, and are made up 
into small faggots or bundles and stacked up for six 
months to a year to dry, and then sell readily at two- 
pence a bundle to cut up for fire-lighting. They also 
make a capital thatch for sheds, a thatch nearly a foot 
thick, warm in winter, and cool in summer, and durable, 
for if well made it will last for forty years. I got a 
clever old thatcher to make me a hoop-chip roof for 
the garden shed ; it was a long j6b, and he took his 
time (although it was piece-work), preparing and 
placing each handful of chips as carefully as if he 
was making a wedding bouquet. He was one of the 
old sort — no scamping of work for" him ; his work was 
as good as he could make it, and it was his pride, and 
delight. The roof was prepared with strong. laths 
nailed horizontally across the rafters as if for tiling, 
but farther apart; and the chips, after a nmnber of 
handfiils had been duly placed and carefully poked 
and patted into shape, were bound down to the laths 
with soft tarred cord guided by an immense iron needle. 
The thatching, as in all cases of roof-covering, begins 
at the e&ves, so that each following layer laps over 
the last. Only the ridge has to be of straw, because 
straw can be bent over ; the chips are too rigid. When 


the thatch is all in place the whole is '' droye," that is, 
beaten up close with a wooden bat that strikes against 
the ends of the chips and drives them up close, 
januning them tight into the fastening. After six 
months of drying summer weather he came and drove 
it all over again. 

Thatching is done by piece-work, and paid at so 
much a ** square " of ten by ten feet. When I asked 
for his bill, the old man brought it made out on a 
hazel stick, in a manner either traditional, or of Ids 
own devising. This is how it runs, in notches about 
half an inch long, and dots dug with the point of the 
knife. It means, " To so much work done, £4, 5s. Od." 




A well done villa garden — A small town garden— Two delightful 
gardens of small size — Twenty acres within the walls — ^A large 
country house and its garden — Terrace — Lawn — Parterre — 
Free garden — Kitchen garden — Buildings — Ornamental orchard 
— Instructive mixed gardens — Mr. Wilson's at Wisley — A 
window garden. 

The size of a garden has very little to do with its 
merit. It is merely an accident relating to the cir- 
cumstances of the owner. It is the size of his heart 
and brain and goodwill that will make his garden 
either delightful or dull, as the case may be, and either 
leave it at the usual monotonous dead-level, or raise it, 
in whatever degree he may, towards that of a work of 
fine art. If a man knows much, it is more difficult 
for him to deal with a small space than a larger, for 
he will have to make the more sacrifice ; but if he is 
wise he will at once make up his mind about what he 
will let go, and how he may best treat the restricted 
space. Some years ago I visited a small garden 
attached to a villa on the outskirts of a watering-place 
on the south coast. In ordinary hands it would have 
been a perfectly commonplace thing, with the usual 



weary mixture, and exhibiting the usual distressing 
symptoms that come in the train of the ministrations 
of the jobbing-gardener. In size it may have been a 
third of an acre, and it was one of the most interesting 
and enjoyable gardens I have ever seen, its master 
and mistress giving it daily care and devotion, and 
enjoying to the full its glad response of grateful 
growth. The master had built with his own hands, 
on one side where more privacy was wanted, high 
rugged walls, with spaces for many rock-loving plants, 
and had made the wall die away so cleverly into the 
rock-garden, that the whole thing looked like a garden 
founded on some ancient ruined structure. And it 
was all done with so much taste that there was nothing 
jarring or strained-looking, still less anjrthing cock- 
neyfied, but all easy and pleasant and pretty, while the 
happy look of the plants at once proclaimed his sym- 
pathy with them, and his comprehensive knowledge 
of their wants. In the same garden was a waUed 
enclosure where Tree Pseonies and some of the hardier 
of the oriental Rhododendrons were thriving, and there 
were pretty spaces of lawn, and flower border, and shrub 
clump, alike beautiful and enjoyable, all within a small 
space, and yet not crowded — ^the garden of one who was 
a keen flower lover, as well as a world-known botanist. 
I am always thankful to have seen this garden, 
because it showed me, in a way that had never been 
so clearly brought home to me, how much may be 
done in a small space. 


Another and much smaller garden that I remem- 
ber with pleasure was in a sort of yard among houses, 
in a country town. The house it belonged to, a 
rather high one, was on its east side, and halfway 
along on the south ; the rest was bounded by a wall 
about ten feet high. Opposite the house the owner 
had built of rough blocks of sandstone what served 
as a workshop, about twelve feet long, along the wall, 
and six feet wide within. A low archway of the same 
rough stone was the entrance, and immediately above 
it a lean-to roof sloped up to the top of the wall, which 
just here had been carried a little higher. The roof 
was of large flat sandstones, only slightly lapping over 
each other, with spaces and chinks where grew luxu- 
riant masses of Polypody Fern. It was contrived with 
a cement bed, so that it was quite weather-tight, and 
the room was lighted by a skylight at one end that 
did not show from the garden. A small surface of 
lead-flat, on a level with the top of the wall, in one 
of the opposite angles, carried an old oil-jar, from 
which fell masses of gorgeous Tropseolum, and the 
actual surface of the flat was a garden of Stonecrops. 
The rounded coping of the walls, and the joints in 
many places (for the wall was an old one), were gay 
with yellow Corydalis and Snapdragons and more 
Stonecrops. The Uttle garden had a few pleasant 
flowering bushes, Ribes and Laurustinus, a Bay and an 
Almond tree. In the coolest and shadiest comer were 
a fern-grotto and a tiny tank. The rest of the garden, 


only a few yards across, was laid out with a square 
bed in the middle, and a little path round, then a 
three-feet-wide border next the wall, all edged with 
rather tall-grown Box. The middle bed had garden 
Boses and Carnations, and Mignonette and Stocks. 
All round were well-chosen plants and shrubs, looking 
well and happy, though in a confined and rather airless 
space. Every square foot had been made the most 
of with the utmost ingenuity, but the ingenuity was 
always directed by good taste, so that nothing looked 
crowded or out of place. 

And I think of two other gardens of restricted 
space, both long strips of ground walled at the sides, 
whose owners I am thankful to count among my 
friends — one in the favoured climate of the Isle 
of Wight, a little garden where I suppose there are 
more rare and beautiful plants brought together within 
a small space than perhaps in any other garden of 
the same size in England; the other in a cathedral 
town, now a memory only, for the master of what was 
one of the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen 
now Uves elsewhere. The garden was long in shape, 
and divided about midway by a wall. The division 
next the house was a quiet lawn, with a mulberry 
tree and a few mounded borders near the sides that 
were unobstrusive, and in no way spoilt the quiet 
feeling of the lawn space. Then a doorway in the 
dividing wall led to a straight path with a double 
flower border. I suppose there was a vegetable garden 


behind the borders, but of that I have no recollection, 
only a vivid remembrance of that brillianUy beautiful 
mass of flowers. The pictiore was good enough as 
one went along, especially as at the end one came first 
within soimd and then within sight of a rushing 
river, one of those swift, clear, shallow streams with 
stony bottom that the trout love ; but it was ten times 
more beautiful on turning to go back, for there was 
the mass of flowers, and towering high above it the 
noble mass of the giant structure — one of the greatest 
and yet most graceful buildings that has ever been 
raised by man to the glory of Gk>d. 

It is true that it is not every one that has the 
advantage of a garden bounded by a river and a noble 
church, but even these advantages might have been 
lost by vulgar or unsuitable treatment of the garden. 
But the mind of the master was so entirely in sym- 
pathy with the place, that no one that had the privi- 
lege of seeing it could feel that it was otherwise than 
right and beautiful 

Both these were the gardens of clergymen ; indeed, 
some of our greatest gardeners are, and have been, 
within the ranks of the Church. For have we not a 
brilliantly-gifted dignitary whose loving praise of the 
Queen of flowers has become a classic? and have we 
not among churchmen the greatest grower of seedling 
Daffodils the world has yet seen, and other names 
of clergymen honourably associated with Roses and 
Auriculas and TuUps and other good flowers, and all 


greatly to their bettering ? The conditions of the life 
of a parish priest would tend to make him a good 
gardener, for, while other men roam about, he stays 
mostly at home, and to live with one's garden is one 
of the best ways to ensure its welfare. And then, 
among the many anxieties and vexations and dis- 
appointments that must needs grieve the heart of 
the pastor of his people, his garden, with its whole- 
some laboinr and all its lessons of patience and trust 
and hopefulness, and its comforting power of solace, 
must be one of the best of medicines for the healing 
of his often sorrowing souL 

I do not envy the owners of very large gardens. 
The garden should fit its master or his tastes just 
as his clothes do ; it should be neither too large nor 
too small, but just comfortable. If the garden is 
larger than he can individually govern and plan and 
look after, then he is no longer its master but its slave, 
just as surely as the much-too-rich man is the slave 
and not the master of his superfluous wealth. And 
when I hear of the great place with a kitchen garden 
of twenty acres within the walls, my heart sinks as I 
think of the uncomfortable disproportion between the 
man and those immediately around him, and his vast 
output of edible vegetation, and I fall to wondering 
how much of it goes as it should go, or whether the 
greater part of it does not go dribbling away, leaking 
into unholy back-channels; and of how the looking 
after it must needs be subdivided; and of how many 


side-interests are likely to steal in, and altogether how 
great a burden of anxiety or matter of temptation it 
must give rise to. A grand truth is in the old farmer's 
saying, ''The master's eye makes the pig fat;" but 
how can any one master's eye fat that vast pig of 
twenty acres, with all its minute and costly cultivation^ 
its two or three crops a year off all ground given to 
soft vegetables, its stoves, greenhouses, orchid and 
orchard houses, its vineries, pineries, figgeries, and all 
manner of glass structures ? 

But happily these monstrous gardens are but few 
— I only know of or have seen two, but I hope never 
to see another. 

Nothing is more satisfactory than to see the well- 
designed and well-organised garden of the large coimtry 
house, whose master loves his garden, and has good 
taste and a reasonable amount of leisure. 

I think that the first thing in such a place is to 
have large unbroken lawn spaces — all the better if they 
are continuous, passing round the south and west sides 
of the house. I am supposing a house of the best class, 
but not necessarily of the largest size. Immediately 
adjoining the house, except for the few feet needed for 
a border for climbing plants, is a broad walk, dry and 
smooth, and perfectly level from end to end. This, in 
the case of many houses, and nearly always with good 
effect, is raised two or three feet above the garden 
ground, and if the architecture of the house demands 
it has a retaining wall surrounded by a balustrade of 



masonry and wrought stone. Broad and shallow stone 
steps lead down to the turf both at the end of the 
walk and in the middle of the front of the house, the 
wider and shallower the better, and at the foot of the 
wall may be a narrow border for a few climbing plants 
that will here and there rise above the coping of the 
parapet. I do not think it desirable where there are 
stone balusters or other distinct architectural features 
to let them be smothered with climbing plants, but that 
there should be, say, a Pyrus japonica or an Escallonia, 
and perhaps a white Jasmine, and on a larger space 
perhaps a cut-leaved or a Claret Vine. Some of the 
best effects of the kind I have seen were where the 
bush, being well established, rose straight out of the 
grass, the border being unnecessary except just at the 

The large lawn space I am supposing stretches away 
a good distance from the house, and is bounded on the 
south and west by fine trees ; away beyond that is aJI 
wild wood. On summer afternoons the greater part 
of the lawn expanse is in cool shade, while winter 
sunsets show through the tree stems. Towards the 
south-east the wood would pass into shrub plantations, 
and farther still into garden and wild orchard (of 
which I shall have something to say presently). At 
this end of the lawn would be the brilliant parterre 
of bedded plants, seen both from the shaded lawn and 
from the terrace, which at this end forms part of its 
design. Beyond the parterre would be a distiaot 

Gakland-Rose wreathing the end of a Terrace Wall. 


division from the farther garden, either of Tew or 
Box hedge, with bays for seats, or in the case of a 
change of level, of another terrace wall. The next 
space beyond would be the main garden for hardy 
plants, at its southern end leading into the wild 
orchard. This would be the place for the free garden 
or the reserve garden, or for any of the many delight- 
ful ways in which hardy flowers can be used; and if 
it happened by good fortune to have a stream or any 
means of having running water, the possibilities of 
beautiful gardening would be endless. 

Beyond this again would come the kitchen garden, 
and after that the stables and the home farm. If the 
kitchen garden had a high wall, and might be entered 
on this side by handsome wrought-iron gates, I would 
approach it from the parterre by a broad grass walk 
bounded by large Bay trees at equal intervals to right 
and left. Through these to the right would be seen 
the free garden of hardy flowers. 

For the kitchen garden a space of two acres would 
serve a large country house with all that is usually 
grown within walls, but there should always be a good 
space outside for the rougher vegetables, as well as a 
roomy yard for compost, pits and frames, and rubbish. 

And here I wish to plead on behalf of the gardener 
that he should have all reasonable comforts and con- 
veniences. Nothing is more frequent, even in good 
places, than to find the potting and tool sheds screwed 
away into some awkward comer, badly lighted, much 


too small, and altogether inadequate, and the pits and 
frames scattered about and difficult to get at. Nothing 
is more wasteful of time, labour, or temper. The 
working parts of a large garden form a complicated 
organisation, and if the parts of the mechanism do not 
fit and work well, and are not properly eased and oiled, 
still more, if any are missing, there must be disastrous 
friction and damage and lossof power. In designing 
garden buildings, I always strongly urge in connection 
with the heating system a warmed potting shed and 
a comfortable messroom for the men, and over this 
a perfectly dry loft for drying and storing such matters 
as shading material, nets, mats, ropes, and sacks. If 
this can be warmed, so much the better. There must 
also be a convenient and quite frost-proof place for 
winter storing of vegetable roots and such plants as 
Dahlias, Cannas, and Gladiolus ; and also a well-lighted 
and warmed workshop for all the innumerable jobs put 
aside for wet weather, of which the chief will be re- 
painting and glazing of lights, repairing implements, 
and grinding and setting tools. This shop should 
have a carpenter's bench and screw, and a smith s 
anvil, and a proper assortment of tools. Such ar- 
rangements, well planned and thought out, will save 
much time and loss of produce, besides helping to 
make all the people employed more comfortable and 

I think that a garden should never be large enough 
to be tiring, that if a large space has to be dealt 


with, a great part had better be laid out in wood. 
Woodland is always charming and restful and en- 
duringly beautiful, and then there is an intermediate 
kind of woodland that should be made more of — wood- 
land of the orchard type. Why is the orchard put 
out of the way, as it generally is, in some remote 
region beyond the kitchen garden and stables? I 
should like the lawn, or the hardy flower garden, or 
both, to pass directly into it on one side, and to plant 
a space of several acres, not necessarily in the usual 
way, with orchard standards twenty-five feet apart in 
straight rows (though in many places the straight rows 
might be best), but to have groups and even groves 
of such things as Medlars and Quinces, Siberian and 
Chinese Crabs, Damsons, Prunes, Service trees, and 
Mountain Ash, besides Apples, Pears, and Cherries, 
in both standard and bush forms. Then alleys of 
Filbert and Cob-nut, and in the opener spaces tangles 
or brakes of the many beautiful bushy things allied to 
the Apple and Plum tribe — Cydonia and Prunus triloba 
and Cratcefftis of many kinds (some of them are tall 
bushes or small trees with beautiful fruits); and the 
wild Blackthorn, which, though a plum, is so nearly 
related to pear that pears may be grafted on it. And 
then brakes of Blackberries, especially of the Parsley- 
leaved kind, so free of growth and so generous of 
fruit. How is it that this fine native plant is almost 
invariably sold in nurseries as an American bramble 7 
If I am mistaken in this I should be glad to be 


corrected, but I believe it to be only the cut-leaved 
variety of the native Rvbus affvtm. 

I have tried the best of the American kinds, and 
with the exception of one year, when I had a few fine 
fruits from Eittatinny, they had been a failure, where- 
as invariably when people have told me that their 
American Blackberries have fruited well, I have found 
them to be the Parsley-leaved. 

Some members of the large Rose- Apple-Plum tribe 
grow to be large forest trees, and in my wild orchard 
they would go in the farther parts. The Bird-cherry 
{Pruim» padtis) grows into a tree of the largest size. 
A Mountain Ash will sometimes have a trunk two 
feet in diameter, and a head of a size to suit. The 
American kind, its near relation, but with larger leaves 
and still grander masses of berries, is a noble small 
tree ; and the native white Beam should not be for- 
gotten, and choice places should be given to Amelanchier 
and the lovely double Japan Apple (Pyrvs modus flori- 
bunda). To give due space and effect to all these 
good things my orchard garden would run into a 
good many acres, but every year it would be growing 
into beauty and profit. The grass should be left 
rough, and plentifully planted with Daffodils, and with 
Cowslips if the soil is strong. The grass would be 
mown and made into hay in June, and perhaps mown 
once more towards the end of September. Under 
the nut-trees would be Primroses and the garden kinds 
of wood Hyacinths and Dogtooth Violets and Lily of 


the Valley, and perhaps Snowdrops, or any of the 
smaller bulbs that most commended themselves to the 
taste of the master. 

Such an orchard garden, well-composed and beau- 
tifully grouped, always with that indispensable quaUty 
of good " drawing," would not only be a source of un- 
ending pleasure to those who lived in the place, but a 
valuable lesson to all who saw it ; for it would show 
the value of the simple and sensible ways of using a 
certain class of related trees and bushes, and of using 
them with a deliberate intention of making the best of 
them, instead of the usual meaningless-nohow way of 
planting. This, in nine cases out of ten, means either 
ignorance or carelessness, the planter not caring enough 
about the matter to take the trouble to find out what 
is best to be done, and being quite satisfied with a 
mixed lot of shrubs, as offered in nursery sales, or with 
the choice of the nurseiyman. I do not presume to 
condenm all mixed planting, only stupid and ignorant 
mixed planting. It is not given to all people to take 
their pleasures alike; and I have in my mind four 
gardens, all of the highest interest, in which the plant- 
ing is all mixed; but then the mixture is of ad- 
mirable ingredients, collected and placed on account 
of individual merit, and a ramble round any one of 
these in company with its owner is a pleasure and a 
privilege that one cannot prize too highly. Where the 
garden is of such large extent that experimental plant- 
ing is made with a good number of one good thing 


at a time, even though there was no premeditated 
intention of planting for beautiful effect, the fact of 
there being enough plants to fall into large groups, 
and to cover some extent of ground, produces numbers 
of excellent results. I remember being struck with 
this on several occasions when I have had the happi- 
ness of visiting Mr. G. F. Wilson's garden at Wisley, a 
garden which I take to be about the most instructive 
it is possible to see. In one part, where the foot of 
the hill joined the copse, there were hosts of lovely 
things planted on a succession of rather narrow banks. 
Almost unthinkingly I expressed the regret I felt that 
so much individual beauty should be there without 
an attempt to arrange it for good effect. Mr. Wilson 
stopped, and looking at me straight with a kindly 
smile, said very quietly, "That is your business, not 
mine." In spite of its being a garden whose first 
object is trial and experiment, it has left in my 
memory two pictures, among several lesser ones, of 
plant-beauty that will stay with me as long as I can 
remember anything, one an autumn and one a spring 
picture — the hedge of Bosa rugosa in full fruit, and a 
plantation of Primvla dentictdata. The Primrose was 
on a bit of level ground, just at the outer and inner 
edges of the hazel copse. The plants were both 
grouped and thinly sprinkled, just as nature plants — 
possibly they grew directly there from seed. They 
were in superb and luxuriant beauty in the black 
peaty-looking half-boggy earth, the handsome leaves 


of the brilliant colour and large 8i2e that told of per- 
fect health and vigour, and the large round heads of 
pure lilac flower carried on strong stalks that must 
have been fifteen inches high. I never saw it so 
happy and so beautiful. It is a plant I much admire, 
and I do the best I can for it on my dry hill; but 
the conditions of my garden do not allow of any 
approach to the success of the Wisley plants ; still I 
have treasured that lesson among many others I have 
brought away from that good garden, and never fail to 
advise some such treatment when I see the likely home 
for it in other places. 

Some of the most delightful of all gardens are the 
little strips in front of roadside cottages. They have 
a simple and tender charm that one may look for in 
vain in gardens of greater pretension. And the old 
garden flowers seem to know that there they are seen 
at their best ; for where else can one see such Wall- 
flowers, or Double Daisies, or White Rose bushes; 
such clustering masses of perennial Peas, or such well- 
kept flowery edgings of Pink, or Thrift, or London 

Among a good many calls for advice about laying 
out gardens, I remember an early one that was of 
special interest. It was the window-box of a factory 
lad in one of the great northern manufacturing towns. 
He had advertised in a mechanical paper that he 
wanted a tiny garden, as full of interest as might be, 
in a window-box ; he knew nothing — would somebody 


help him with advice ? So advice was sent and the 
box prepared. If I remember rightly the size was 
three feet by ten inches. A little later the post 
brought him little plants of mossy and silvery saxi- 
frages, and a few small bulbs. Even some stones were 
sent, for it was to be a rock-garden, and there were to 
be two hills of different heights with rocky tops, and a 
longish valley with a sunny and a shady side. 

It was delightful to have the boy's letters, fuU of 
keen interest and eager questions, and only difficult to 
restrain him from killing his plants with kindness, in 
the way of liberal doses of artificial manure. The 
very smallness of the tiny garden made each of its 
small features the more precious. I could picture 
his feeling of delightful anticipation when he saw the 
first little bluish blade of the Snowdrop patch pierce 
its mossy carpet. Would it, could it really grow into 
a real Snowdrop, with the modest, milk-white flower 
and the pretty green hearts on the outside of the inner 
petals, and the clear green stripes within ? and would it 
really nod him a glad good-morning when he opened 
his window to greet it ? And those few blunt reddish 
homy-looking snouts just coming through the ground, 
would they really grow into the brilliant blue of the 
early Squill, that would be like a bit of midsummer 
sky among the grimy surroundii^s of the attic window, 
and \mder that grey, soot-laden northern sky? I 
thought with pleasure how he would watch them in 
spare minutes of the dinner-hour spent at home, and 


think of them as he went forward and back to his 
work, and how the remembrance of the tender beauty 
of the full-blown flower would make him glad, and lift 
up his heart while " minding his mule " in the busy 
restless mill. 



The ignorant questioner — Beginning at the end — An ezamph 
Personal experience — Ahsence of outer help — Johnia^ " Flowers 
of the Field" — Collecting plants — Nurseries near London — 
Wheel-spokes as labels — Garden friends — Mr. Robinson's 
"English Flower-Garden" — Mr. Nicholson's "Dictionary of 
Gardening" — One main idea desirable — Pictorial treatment — 
Training in fine art — Adapting from Nature — Study of colour — 
Ignorant use of the word " artistic." 

Many people who love flowers and wish to do some 
practical gardening: are at their wit's end to know what 
I do ^ how ^ bogi. mo a ^. who i. o. 
skates for the first time, they feel that, what with the 
bright steel runners, and the slippery surface, and the 
sense of helplessness, there are more ways of tumbling 
about than of progressing safely in any one direction. 
And in gardening the beginner must feel this kind of 
perplexity and helplessness, and indeed there is a great 
deal to learn, only it is pleasant instead of perilous, 
and the many tumbles by the way only teach and do 
not hurt. The first few steps are perhaps the most 
difficult, and it is only when we know something of 
the subject and an eager beginner comes with questions 



that one sees how very many are the things that want 
knowing. And the more ignorant the questioner, the 
more difficult it is to answer helpfully. When one 
knows, one cannot help presupposing some sort of 
knowledge on the part of the querist, and where this 
is absent the answer we can give is of no use. The 
ignorance, when fairly complete, is of such a nature 
that the questioner does not know what to ask, and 
the question, even if it can be answered, falls upon 
barren ground. I think in such cases it is better to 
try and teach one simple thing at a time, and not to 
attempt to answer a number of useless questions. It 
is disheartening when one has tried to give a careful 
answer to have it received with an Oh ! of boredom or 
disappointment, as much as to say, You can't expect 
me to take all that trouble ; and there is the still more 
unsatisfactory sort of applicant, who plies a string of 
questions and will not wait for the answers ! The real 
way is to try and learn a little from everybody and 
from every place. There is no royal road. It is no 
use asking me or any one else how to dig — I mean 
sitting indoors and asking it. Better go and watch a 
man digging, and then take a spade and try to do it, 
and go on trying till it comes, and you gain the knack 
that is to be learnt with all tools, of doubling the power 
and halving the effort; and meanwhile you will be 
learning other things, about your own arms and legs 
and back, and perhaps a little robin will come and 
give you moral support, and at the same time keep a 


sharp look-out for any worms you may happen to turn 
up; and you will find out that there are all sorts of 
ways of learning, not only from people and books, but 
from sheer trying. 

I remember years ago having to learn to use the 
blow-pipe, for soldering and other purposes connected 
with work in gold and silver. The difficult part of it 
is to keep up the stream of air through the pipe while 
you are breathing the air in ; it is easy enough when 
you only want a short blast of a few seconds, within 
the compass of one breath or one filling of the bellows 
(lungs), but often one has to go on blowing through 
several inspirations. It is a trick of muscular action. 
My master who taught me never could do it himself, 
but by much trying one day I caught the trick. 

The grand way to learn, in gardening as in all things 
else, is to wish to learn, and to be determined to find 
out — not to think that any one person can wave a 
wand and give the power and knowledge. And there 
will be plenty of mistakes, and there must be, just as 
children must pass through the usual childish com- 
plaints. And some people make the mistake of trying 
to begin at the end, and of using recklessly what may 
want the utmost caution, such, for instance, as strong 
chemical mixtures. 

Some ladies asked me why their plant had died. 
They had got it from the very best place, and they 
were sure they had done their very best for it, and — 
there it was, dead. I asked what it was, and how 


they had treated it. It was some ordinary border 
plant, whose identity I now forget ; they had made a 
nice hole with their new trowel, and for its sole benefit 
they had bought a tin of Concentrated Fertiliser. This 
they had emptied into the hole, put in the plant, and 
covered it up and given it lots of water, and — it had 
died ! Ai|d yet these were the best and kindest of 
women, who would never have dreamed of feeding a 
new-bom infant on beefsteaks and raw brandy. But 
they learned their lesson well, and at once saw the 
sense when I pointed out that a plant with naked roots 
just taken out of the ground or a pot, removed from 
one feeding-place and not yet at home in another, or 
still more after a journey, with the roots only wrapped 
in a little damp moss and paper, had its feeding power 
suspended for a time, and was in the position of a 
helpless invalid. All that could be done for it then 
was a little bland nutriment of weak slops and careful 
nursing ; if the planting took place in the summer it 
would want shading and only very gentle watering, 
until firm root-hold was secured and root-appetite 
became active, and that in rich and well -prepared 
garden groimd such as theirs strong artificial manure 
was in any case superfluous. 

When the earlier ignorances are overcome it be- 
comes much easier to help and advise, because there 
is more common ground to stand on. In my own 
case, from quite a small child, I had always seen 
gardening going on, though not of a very interesting 


kind. Nothing much was thought of but bedding 
plants, and there was a rather large space on each side 
of the house for these, one on gravel and one on turf. 
But I had my own little garden in a nook beyond the 
shrubbery, with a seat shaded by a .BourmtUt elegans 
Rose, which I thought then, and still think, one of the 
loveliest of its kind. But my first knowledge of hardy 
plants came through wild ones. Some one gave me 
that excellent book, the Rev. C. A. Johns' " Flowers of 
the Field." For many years I had no one to advise 
me (I was still quite small) how to use the book, or 
how to get to know (though it stared me in the face) 
how the plants were in large related families, and I 
had not the sense to do it for myself, nor to learn the 
introductory botanical part, which would have saved 
much trouble afterwards; but when I brought home 
my flowers I would take them one by one and just 
turn over the pages till I came to the picture that 
looked something like. But in this way I got a know- 
ledge of individuals, and afterwards the idea of broad 
classification and relationship of genera to species may 
have come all the easier. I always think of that book 
as the most precious gift I ever received. I distinctly 
trace to its teaching my first firm steps in the path of 
plant knowledge, and the feeling of assured comfort I 
had afterwards in recognising the kinds when I came 
to collect garden plants; for at that time I had no 
other garden book, no means of access to botanic 
gardens or private collections, and no helpful adviser. 


One copy of " Johns " I wore right out ; I have now 
two, of which one is in its second binding, and is 
always near me for reference. I need hardly say that 
this was long before the days of the " English Flower* 
Garden," or its helpfiil predecessor, " Alpine Plants." 

By this time I was steadily collecting hardy garden 
plants wherever I could find them, mostly from cottage 
gardens. Many of them were still unknown to me by 
name, but as the collection increased I began to com- 
pare and discriminate, and of various kinds of one plant 
to throw out the worse and retain the better, and to 
train myself to see what made a good garden plants 
and about then began to grow the large yellow and 
white bunch Primroses, whose history is in another 
chapter. And then I learnt that there were such 
places (though then but few) as nurseries, where such 
plants as I had been collecting in the cottage gardens, 
and even better, were grown. And I went to Osborne's 
at Fulham (now all built over), and there saw the 
original tree of the fine Ilex known as the Fulham 
Oak, and several spring-flowering bulbs I had never 
seen before, and what I felt sm:e were numbers of 
desirable summer-flowering plants, but not then in 
bloom. Soon after this I began to learn something 
about Daffodils, and enjoyed much kind help from 
Mr. Barr, visiting his nursery (then at Tooting) several 
times, and sometimes combining a visit to Parker's 
nursery just over the way, a perfect paradise of good 
hardy plants. I shall never forget my first sight here 



of the Cape Pondweed (Aponogeton digkuAyon) in full 
flower and great vigour in the dipping tanks, and over- 
flowing from them into the ditches. 

Also I was delighted to see the use as labels of old 
wheel-spokes. I could not help feeling that if one 
had been a spoke of a cab-wheel, and had passed 
all one's working life in being whirled and clattered 
over London pavements, defiled with street mud, how 
pleasant a way to end one's days was this; to have 
one's felloe end pointed and dipped in nice wholesome 
rot-resisting gas-tar and thrust into the quiet cool 
earth, and one's nave end smoothed and painted and 
inscribed with some such soothing legend as Tinea 
minor or Dianthus fragrans I 

Later I made acquaintance with several of the 
leading amateur and professional gardeners, and with 
Mr. Robinson, and to their good comradeship and 
kindly willingness to let me "pick their brains" I 
owe a great advance in garden lore. Moreover, what 
began by the drawing together of a common interest 
has grown into a still greater benefit, for several 
acquaintances so made have ripened into steady and 
much-valued friendships. It has been a great interest 
to me to have had the privilege of watching the 
gradual growth, through its several editions, of Mr. 
Robinson's "English Flower-Garden," the one best 
and most helpful book of all for those who want to 
know about hardy flowers, offering as it does in the 
clearest and easiest way a knowledge of the garden- 


treasures of the temperate world. No one who has 
not had occasional glimpses behind the scenes can 
know how much labour and thought such a book 
represents, to say nothing of research and practical 
experiment, and of the trouble and great expense of 
producing the large amount of pictorial illustration. 
Another book, though on quite different lines, that 
I find most useful is Mr. Nicholson's "Illustrated 
Dictionary of Gardening," in eight handy volumes. 
It covers much the same ground as the useful old 
Johnson's "Gardener's Dictionary," but is much more 
complete and comprehensive, and is copiously illus- 
trated with excellent wood-cuts. It is the work of 
a careful and learned botanist, treating of all plants 
desirable for cultivation from all climates, and teaching 
all branches of practical horticulture and such useful 
matters as means of dealing with insect pests. The 
old " Johnson " is still a capital book in one volume ; 
mine is rather out of date, being the edition of 1875, 
but it has been lately revised and improved. It would 
be delightful to possess, or to have easy access to, a 
good botanical library ; stDl, for all the purposes of the 
average garden lover, these books will suflGice. 

I think it is desirable, when a certain degree of 
knowledge of plants and facility of dealing with them 
has been acquired, to get hold of a clear idea of what 
one most wishes to do. The scope of the subject is 
so wide, and there are so many ways to choose from, 
that having one general idea helps one to concentrate 


thought and effort that would otherwise be wasted by 
being diluted and dribbled through too many probable 
channels of waste. 

Ever since it came to me to feel some little grasp 
of knowledge of means and methods, I have foimd 
that my greatest pleasure, both in garden and wood- 
land, has been in the enjoyment of beauty of a pictorial 
kind. Whether the picture be large as of a whole land- 
scape, or of lesser extent as in some fine single group 
or effect, or within the space of only a few inches 
as may be seen in some happily-disposed planting of 
Alpines, the intention is always the same ; or whether 
it is the grouping of trees in the wood by the removal 
of those whose lines are not wanted in the picture, 
or in the laying out of broad grassy ways in woody 
places, or by ever so slight a turn or change of direction 
in a wood path, or in the alteration of some arrange- 
ment of related groups for form or for massing of light 
and shade, or for any of the many local conditions 
that guide one towards forming a decision, the in- 
tention is still always the same — to try and make a 
beautiful garden-picture. And little as I can as yet 
boast of being able to show anything like the number 
of these I could wish, yet during the flower-year there 
is generally something that at least in part answers 
to the effort. 

I do not presume to urge the acceptance of my 
own particular form of pleasure in a garden on those 
to whom, from different temperament or manner of 


education, it would be unwelcome ; I only speak of what 
I feel, and to a certain degree understand ; but I had 
the advantage in earlier life of some amount of training 
in appreciation of the fine arts, and this, working upon 
an inborn feeling of reverent devotion to things of 
the highest beauty in the works of God, has helped 
me to an understanding of their divinely-inspired in- 
terpretations by the noblest minds of men, into those 
other forms that we know as works of fine art. 

And so it comes about that those of us who feel 
and understand in this way do not exactly attempt to 
imitate Nature in our gardens, but try to become well 
acquainted with her moods and ways, and then dis- 
criminate in our borrowing, and so interpret her 
methods as besjt we may to the making of our garden- 

I have always had great delight in the study of 
colour, as the word is understood by artists, which 
again is not a positive matter, but one of relation and 
proportion. And when one hears the common chatter 
about ''artistic colours," one receives an unpleasant 
impression about the education and good taste of the 
speaker ; and one is reminded of an old saying which 
treats of the unwisdom of rushing in " where angels 
fear to tread," and of regret that a good word should 
be degraded by misuse. It may be safely said that 
no colour can be called artistic in itself; for, in the 
first place, it is bad English, and in the second, it is 
nonsense. Even if the first objection were waived, 


and the second condoned, it could only be used in a 
secondary sense, as signifying something that is useful 
and suitable and right in its place. In this limited 
sense the scarlet of the soldier's coat, and of the pillar- 
box and mail-cart, and the bright colours of flags, or 
of the port and starboard lights of ships, might be 
said to be just so far "artistic" (again if grammar 
would allow), as they are right and good in their 
places. But then those who use the word in the usual 
ignorant, random way have not even this simple con- 
ception of its meaning. Those who know nothing 
about colour in the more refined sense (and like a 
knowledge of everything else it wants learning) get no 
farther than to enjoy it only when most crude and 
garish — when, as Greorge Herbert says, it "bids the 
rash gazer wipe his eye," or when there is some violent 
opposition of complementary colour — ^forgetting, or not 
knowing, that though in detail the objects brought 
together may make each other appear brighter, yet 
in the mass, and especially when mixed up, the one 
actually neutralises the other. And they have no idea 
of using the colour of flowers as precious jewels in a 
setting of quiet environment, or of suiting the colour 
of flowering groups to that of the neighbouring foliage, 
thereby enhancing the value of both, or of massing 
related or harmonious colourings so as to lead up to 
the most powerful and brilliant effects; and yet all 
these are just | the ways of employing colour to the best 


But the most frequent fault, whether in composi- 
tion or in colour, is the attempt to crowd too 
much into the picture; the simpler effect obtained 
by means of temperate and wise restraint is always 
the more telling. 



The flower-border — ^The wall and its occupants — ChoUya temata — 
Nandina — Canon Ellacombe's garden — Treatment of colour- 
masses — Arrangement of plants in the border — Dahlias and 
Cannas — Covering bare places — ^The pergola — How made — 
Suitable climbers — Arbours of trained Planes — Qarden houses. 

I HAVE a rather large " mixed border of hardy flowers/' 
It is not quite so hopelessly mixed as one generally 
sees, and the flowers are not all hardy ; but as it is a 
thing everybody rightly expects, and as I have been 
for a good many years trying to puzzle out its wants 
and ways, I will try and describe my own and its sur- 

There ia a sandstone wall of pleasant colour at the 
back, nearly eleven feet high. This wall is an impor- 
tant feature in the garden, as it is the dividing line 
between the pleasure garden and the working garden ; 
also, it shelters the pleasure garden from the sweeping 
blasts of wind from the north-west, to which my groimd 
is much exposed, as it is all on a gentle slope, going 
downward towards the north. At the foot of the wall 
is a narrow border three feet six inches wide, and then 
a narrow alley, not a made path, but just a way to go 



aloBg for tending the wall shrubs, and for getting at 
the back of the border. This little alley does not 
show from the front. Then the main border, fourteen 
feet wide and two hundred feet long. About three- 
quarters of the way along a path cuts through the 
border, and passes by an arched gateway in the wall 
to the Fseony garden and the working garden beyond. 
Just here I thought it would be well to mound up the 
border a little, and plant with groups of Yuccas, so 
that at all times of the year there should be something 
to make a handsome full-stop to the sections of the 
border, and to glorify the doorway. The two extreme 
ends of the border are treated in the same way with 
Yuccas on rather lesser mounds, only leaving space 
beyond them for the entrance to the little alley at the 

The wall and border face two points to the east of 
south, or, as a sailor would say, south-south-east, half- 
way between south and south-east. In front of the 
border runs a path seven feet wide, and where the 
border stops at the eastern end it still runs on another 
sixty feet, under the pergola, to the open end of a 
sunmier-house. The wall at its western end returns 
forward, square with its length, and hides out green- 
houses, sheds, and garden yard. The path in front of 
the border passes through an arch into this yard, but 
there is no view into the yard, as it is blocked by some 
Yews planted in a quarter-circle. 

Though wall-space is always precious, I thought it 


better to block out this shorter piece of return wall on 
the garden side with a hedge of Yews. They are now 
nearly the height of the wall, and will be allowed to 
grow a little higher, and will eventually be cut into an 
arch over the arch in the wall. I wanted the sombre 
duskiness of the Yews as a rich, quiet background for 
the brightness of the flowers, though they are rather dis- 
appointing in May and June, when their young shoots 
are of a bright and lively green. At the eastern end of 
the border there is no return wall, but another plant- 
ing of Yews equal to the depth of the border. Notched 
into them is a stone seat about ten feet long ; as they 
grow they will be clipped so as to make an arching 
hood over the seat. 

The wall is covered with climbers, or with non- 
climbing shrubs treated as wall-plants. They do not 
all want the wall for warmth or protection, but are 
there because I want them there; because, thinking 
over what things would look best and give me the 
greatest pleasiire, these came among them. All the 
same, the larger number of the plants on the wall do 
want it, and would not do without it. At the western 
end, the only part which is in shade for the greater 
part of the day, is a Qarrya ellipticcL So many of my 
garden Mends like a quiet journey along the wall to 
see what is there, that I propose to do the like by my 
reader ; so first for the wall, and then for the border. 
Beyond the Garn/a, in the extreme angle, is a Clematis 
montana. When the Oarrya is more grown there will 

Pathway across thb South Border in Jui 


not be much room left for the Clematis, but then it 

will have become bare below, and can ramble over the 

wall on the north side, and, in any case, it is a plant 

with a not very long lifetime, and will be nearly or 

quite worn out before its root-space is reached or 

wanted by its neighbours. Next on the wall is the 

beautiful Rose Acacia (BoUnia hispida). It is perfectly 

hardy, but the wood is so brittle that it breaks off 

short with the sUghtest weight of wind or snow or 

rain. I never could understand why a hardy shrub 

was created so brittle, or how it behaves in its native 

place. I look in my ''Nicholson," and see that it 

comes from North America. Now, North America 

is a large place, and there may be in it favoured 

spots where there is no snow, and only the veiy 

gentlest rain, and so well sheltered that the wind only 

blows in faintest breaths ; and to judge by its behaviour 

in our gardens, all these conditions are necessary for 

its well-being. This troublesome quality of brittleness 

no doubt accounts for its being so seldom seen in 

gardens. I began to think it hopeless when, after 

three plantings in the open, it was again wrecked, but 

at last had the happy idea of training it on a wall. 

Even there, though it is looked over and tied in twice 

a year, a branch or two often gets broken. But I 

do not regret having given it the space, as the wall 

could hardly have had a better ornament, so beautiful 

are its rosy flower-clusters and pale-green leaves. As 

it inclines to be leggy below, I have trained a Crimson 


Rambler Rose over the lower paxt, tying it in to any 
bare places in the Bdbinia. 

Next along the wall is Solanum crispum, much to be 
recommended in our southern counties. It covers a 
good space of wall, and every year shoots up some feet 
above it ; indeed it is such a lively grower that it has 
to endure a severe yearly pruning. Every season it is 
smothered with its pretty clusters of potato-shaped 
bloom of a good bluish-lilac colour. After these I 
wanted some soUd-looking dark evergreens, so there is 
a Loquat, with its splendid foliage equalling that of 
Magnolia grandiflora, and then Black Laurustinus, Bay, 
and Japan Privet; and from among this dark-leaved 
company shoots up the tender green of a Banksian 
Rose, grown from seed of the single kind, the gift of 
my kind friend Commendatore Hanbury, whose world- 
famed garden of La Mortola, near Yentimiglia, probably 
contains the most remarkable collection of plants and 
shrubs that have ever been brought together by one 
man. This Rose has made good growth, and a iSrst few 
flowers last year — seedling Roses are slow to bloom — 
lead me to expect a good show next season. 

In the narrow border at the foot of the wall is a 
bush of JRaphiolepis ovata, always to me an interesting 
shrub, with its thick, roundish, leathery leaves and 
white flower-clusters, also bushes of Rosemary, some 
just filling the border, and some trained up the walL 
Our Tudor ancestors were fond of Rosemary-covered 
walls, and I have seen old bushes quite ten feet high 


on the garden walls of Italian monasteries. Among 
the Rosemaries I always like, if possible, to " tickle in " 
a China Rose or two, the tender pink of the Rose seems 
to go so well with the dark but dull-surfaced Rosemary. 
Then still in the wall-border comes a long straggling 
mass of that very pretty and interesting herbaceous 
Clematis, 0, Davidiana. The colour of its flower 
always delights me ; it is of an unusual kind of greyish- 
blue, of very tender and lovely quality. It does well in 
this warm border, growing about three feet high. Then 
on the wall come Pyrus Maulei and Chimonanthus, 
Claret- Vine, and the large-flowered Ceanothus Gloire de 
Versailles, hardy Fiidmay and Magnolia SotUangeaiia, 
ending with a big bush of Choisya temata, and rambling 
above it a very fine kind of Bignonia grandiflora. 

Then comes the archway, flanked by thick buttresses. 
A Choisya was planted just beyond each of these, but 
it has grown wide and high, spreading across the face 
of the buttress on each side, and considerably invading 
the pathway. There is no better shrub here than this 
delightful Mexican plant ; its long whippy roots ramble 
through our light soil with every sign of enjoyment ; 
it always looks clean and healthy and well. dressed, and 
as for its lovely and deliciously sweet flowers, we cut 
them by the bushel, and almost by the faggot, and the 
bushes scarcely look any emptier. 

Beyond the archway comes the shorter length of 
wall and border. For convenience I planted all 
slightly tender things together on this bit of wall and 

206 Wood and garden 

border; then we make one job of covering the whole 
with fir-boughs for protection in winter. On the wall 
are Piptanthus nepalensis, CistvA ladaniferus, Edwardsia 
grandijlora.ajid another Loquat, and in the border a num- 
ber of Hydrangeas, Clerodendron fcUidium, Crinums, and 
Nandina domestica, the Chinese so-called sacred Bamboo. 
It is not a Bamboo at aU, but aUied to Berheris; the 
Chinese plant it for good luck near their houses. K 
it is as lucky as it is pretty, it ought to do one good ! 
I first made acquaintance with this beautiful plant in 
Canon EUacombe's most interesting garden at Bitten, in 
Oloucestershire, where it struck me as one of the most 
beautiful growing things I had ever seen, the beauty 
being mostly in the form and colouring of the leaves. 
It is not perhaps a plant for everybody, and barely 
hardly ; it seems slow to get hold, and its fiill beauty 
only shows when it is well established, and throws up its 
wonderfully-coloured leaves on tall bamboo-like stalks. 
There is nothing much more difficult to do in out- 
door gardening than to plant a mixed border well, and 
to keep it in beauty throughout the summer. Every 
year, as I gain more experience, and, I hope, more 
power of critical judgment, I find myself tending 
towards broader and simpler effects, both of grouping 
and colour. I do not know whether it is by individual 
preference, or in obedience to some colour-law that I can 
instinctively feel but camiot pretend even to understand, 
and much less to explain, but in practice I always find 
more satisfaction and facility in treating the warm 


coloiirs (reds and yellows) in graduated harmonies, 
culminating into gorgeousness, and the cool ones in 
contrasts ; especially in the case of blue, which I like 
to use either in distinct but not garish contrasts, as 
of full blue with pale yellow, or in separate cloud-like 
harmonies, as of lilac and pale purple with grey foliage. 
I am never so much inclined to treat the blues, purples, 
and lilacs in gradations together as I am the reds and 
yellows. Purples and lilacs I can put together, but 
not these with blues ; and the pure blues always seem 
to demand peculiar and very careful treatment. 

The western end of the flower-border begins with 
the low bank of Yuccas, then there are some rather 
large masses of important grey and glaucous foliage 
and pale and full pink flower. The foliage is mostly 
of the Olobe Artichoke, and nearer the front of Arte- 
mida and Cineraria maHHma. Among this, pink 
Canterbury Bell, Holyhock, Phlox, Oladiolus, and 
Japan Anemone, all iq pink colourings, will follow one 
another in due succession. Then come some groups 
of plants bearing whitish and very pale flowers, Foly- 
gonum compadum, Aconitum lycoctonum, Double Meadow- 
sweet, and other Spirseas, and then the colour passes to 
pale yellow of Mulleins, and with them the palest blue 
Delphiniums. Towards the front is a wide planting 
of Iris pallida cUdmatica^ its handsome bluish foliage 
showing as outstanding and yet related masses with 
regard to the first large group of pale foliage. Then 
comes the pale-yellow Iris flavescens, and meanwhile 


the group of Delphinium deepens into those of a fuller 
blue colour, though none of the darkest are here. Then 
more pale yellow of Mullein, Thalictrum, and Paris 
Daisy, and so the colour passes to stronger yellows. 
These change into orange, and from that to brightest 
scarlet and crimson, coming to the fullest strength in 
the Oriental Poppies of the earlier year, and later in 
Lychnis, Gladiolus, Scarlet Dahlia, and Tritoma. The 
colour-scheme then passes again through orange and 
yellow to the paler yellows, and so again to blue and 
warm white, where it meets one of the clumps of Yuccas 
flanking the path that divides this longer part of the 
border from the much shorter piece beyond. This 
simple procession of colour arrangement has occupied 
a space of a hundred and sixty feet, and the border is 
all the better for it. 

The short length of border beyond the gateway has 
again Yuccas and important pale foliage, and a pre- 
ponderance of pink bloom, Hydrangea for the most 
part; but there are a few tall Mulleins, whose pale- 
yellow flowers group well with the ivory of the Yucca 
spikes and the clear pink of the tall Hollyhocks. These 
all show up well over the masses of grey and glaucous 
foliage, and against the rich darkness of dusky Yew. 

Dahlias and Cannas have their places in the mixed 
border. When it is being dismantled in the late 
autumn all bare places are well dug and enriched, so 
that when it comes to fiUing-up time, at the end of 
May, I know that every spare bit of space is ready. 


and at the time of prepaxation I mark places for 
special Dahlias, according to colour, and for groups of 
the tall Cannas where I want grand foliage. 

There are certain classes of plants that are quite 
indispensable, but that leave a bare or shabby-looking* 
place when their bloom is over. How to cover these 
places is one of the problems that have to be solved. 
The worst offender is Oriental Poppy; it becomes 
unsightly soon after blooming, and is quite gone by 
midsunmier. I therefore plant Gypsophila paniculate^ 
between and behind the Poppy groups, and by July 
there is a delicate cloud of bloom instead of large bare 
patches. JEryngium Olivieranum has turned brown by 
the beginning of July, but around the group some 
Dahlias have been planted, that will be gradually 
trained down over the space of the departed Sea-Holly> 
and other Dahlias are used in the same way to mask 
various weak places. 

There is a perennial Sunflower, with tall black 
stems, and pale-yellow flowers quite at the top, an old 
garden sort, but not very good as usually grown ; this 
I find of great value to train down, when it throws up 
a short flowering stem from each joint, and becomes a 
spreading sheet of bloom. 

One would rather not have to resort to these ar- 
tifices of sticking and training ; but if a certain effect 
is wanted, all such means are lawful, provided that 
nothing looks stiff or strained or unsightly ; and it is 

pleasant to exercise ingenuity and to invent ways to 



meet the needs of any case that may arise. But like 
everything else, in good gardening it must be done 
just right, and the artist-gardener finds that hardly 
the placing of a single plant can be deputed to any 
other hand than his own ; for though, when it is done, 
it looks quite simple and easy, he must paint his own 
picture himself — ^no one can paint it for him. 

I have no dogmatic views about having in the 
ao-called hardy flower-border none but hardy flowers. 
All flowers are welcome that are right in colour, and 
that make a brave show where a brave show is wanted. 
It is of more importance that the border should be 
liandsome than that all its occupants should be hardy. 
Therefore I prepare a certain useful lot of half-hardy 
annuals, and a few of what have come to be called 
bedding-plants. I like to vary them a little from year 
to year, because in no one season can I get in aU the 
good flowers that I should like to grow ; and I think 
it better to leave out some one year and have them 
the next, than to crowd any up, or to find I have 
plants to put out and no space to put them in. But 
I nearly always grow these half-hardy annuals ; orange 
African Marigold, French Marigold, sulphur Sunflower^ 
orange and scarlet tall Zinnia, Nasturtiums, both 
dwarf and trailing, Nicotiana affi,ni$, Maize, and Salpi- 
glossis. Then Stocks and China Asters. The Stocks 
are always the large white and flesh-coloured sunmier 
kinds, and the Asters, the White Comet, and one of 
the blood-red or so-called scarlet sorts. 

South Bordek Door and Yuccas is August. 


Then I have yellow Paris Daisies, Salvia patens, 
Heliotrope, Calceolaria amplexicatUis, Geraniums, scarlet 
and salmon-coloured and ivy-leaved kinds, the best of 
these being the pink Madame Crousse. 

The front edges of the border are also treated in 
rather a large way. At the shadier end there is first 
a long straggling bordering patch of Anemone sylvestris. 
When it is once above ground the foliage remains 
good till autumn, while its soft white flower comes 
right with the colour of the flowers behind. Then 
comes a long and large patch of the larger kind of 
Megasea cordifolia, several yards in length, and running 
back here and there among taller plants. I am never 
tired of admiring the fine solid foUage of this family 
of plants, remaining, as it does, in beauty both winter 
and summer, and taking on a splendid winter colour- 
ing of warm red bronze. It is true that the flowers of 
the two best-known kinds, M. cordifolia and M. crassi- 
folia, have coarse-looking flowers of a strong and rank 
quality of pink colour, but' the persistent beauty of 
the leaves more than compensates ; and in the rather 
tenderer kind, M. ligiokUa and its varieties, the colour 
of the flower is delightful, of a delicate good pink, 
with almost scarlet stalks. There is nothing flimsy or 
temporary-looking about the Megaseas, but rather a sort 
of grave and monumental look that specially fits them 
for association with masonry, or for any place where a 
solid-looking edging or full-stop is wanted. To go 
back to those in the edge of the border : if the edging 


threatens to look too dark and hard, I plant among 
or just behind the plants that compose it pink or 
scarlet Ivy Geranium or trailing Nasturtium, accord- 
ing to the colour demanded by the neighbouring group. 
Heuchera Richarcboni is another good front-edge plant ; 
and when we come to the blue and pale-yellow group 
there is a planting of Funkia graTidiflora^ whose fresh- 
looking pale -green leaves are delightful with the 
brilliant light yellow of Calceolaria amplexicatdis, and 
the farther-back planting of pale-blue Delphinium, 
Mullein, and sulphur Sunflower ; while the same colour 
of foliage is repeated in the fresh green of the Indian 
Com. Small spaces occur here and there along the 
extreme front edge, and here are planted little jewels 
of colour, of blue Lobelia, or dwarf Nasturtium, or 
anything of the colour that the place demands. 

The whole thing sounds much more elaborate than 
it really is ; the trained eye sees what is wanted, and 
the trained hand does it, both by an acquired instinct. 
It is painting a picture with living plants. 

I much enjoy the pergola at the end of the sunny 
path. It is pleasant while walking in full sunshine, 
and when that sunny place feels just a little too hot, 
to look into its cool depth, and to feel that one has 
only to go a few steps farther to be in shade, and to 
feel that little air of wind that the moving smnmer 
clouds say is not far off, and is only unfelt just here 
because it is stopped by the wall It feels wonderfully 
dark at first, this gallery of cool greenery, passing into 


it with one's eyes full of light and colour, and the 
open-sided summer-house at the end looks like a black 
caYem ; but on going into it, and sitting down on one 
of its broad, low benches, one finds that it is a pleasant 
subdued light, just right to read by. 

The pergola has two openings out of it on the 
right, and one on the left. The first way out on the 
right is straight into the nut-walk, which leads up to 
very near the house. The second goes up two or 
three low, broad steps made of natural sandstone flags, 
between groups of Ferns, into the Michaelmas Daisy 
garden. The opening on the left leads into a quiet 
space of grass the width of the flower and wall border 
(twenty feet), having only some peat-beds planted with 
Kalmia. This is backed by a Yew hedge in continua- 
tion of the main wall, and it will soon grow into a 
cool, quiet bit of garden, seeming to belong to the 
pergola. Now, standing midway in the length of the 
covered walk, with the eye rested and refreshed by the 
leafy half-light, on turning roimd again towards the 
border it shows as a briUiant picture through the 
bowery framing, and the value of the simple method 
of using the colours is seen to fcdl advantage. 

I do not like a mean pergola, made of stuff as thin 
as hop-poles. If means or materials do not admit of 
havinir anythinc: better, it is far better to use these in 
sor^therZple way. of which there are many to 
choose from — such as uprights at even intervals, braced 
together with a continuous raU at about four feet from 


the ground, and another rail just clear of the ground, 
and some simple trellis of the smaller stuff between 
these two rails. This is always pretty at the back of 
a flower-border in any modest garden. But a pergola 
should be more seriously treated, and the piers at any 
rate should be of something rather large— either oak 
stems ten inches thick, or, better still, of fourteen-inch 
brickwork painted with Ume-wash to a quiet stone- 
colour. In Italy the piers are often of rubble masonry, 
either round or square in section, coated with very 
coarse plaster, and lime-washed white. For a pergola 
of moderate size the piers should stand in pairs across 
the path, with eight feet clear between. Ten feet from 
pier to pier along the path is a good proportion, or 
anything from eight to ten feet, and they should stand 
seven feet two inches out of the ground. Each pair 
should be tied across the top with a strong beam of 
oak, either of the natural shape, or roughly adzed on 
the four faces ; but in any case, the ends of the beams, 
where they rest on the top of the piers, should be 
adzed flat to give them a firm seat. If the beams are 
slightly curved or cambered, as most trunks of oak 
are, so much the better, but they must always be 
placed camber side up. The pieces that run along 
the top, with the length of the path, may be of any 
branching tops of oak, or of larch poles. These can 
easily be replaced as they decay ; but the replacing of 
a beam is a more difficult matter, so that it is well to 
let them be fairly durable from the beginning. 

Stonb-built Pergola with Wrought Oak Beams. 

' Rough Oak. 


The climbers I find best for covering the pergol& 
are Vines, Jasmine, Aristolochia, Virginia Creeper, and 
Wistaria. Roses are about the worst, for they soon 
run up leggy, and only flower at the top out of sight. 

A sensible arrangement, allied to the pergola, and 
frequent in Germany and Switzerland, is made by 
planting young Planes, pollarding them at about eight 
feet from the ground, and training down the young 
growths horizontally till they have covered the desired 

There is much to be done in our better-class gar- 
dens in the way of pretty small structures thoroughly 
well-designed and built. Many a large lawn used every 
afternoon in summer as a family playground and place 
to receive visitors would have its comfort and useful- 
ness greatly increased by a pretty garden-house, iostead 
of the usual hot and ugly, crampy and uncomfortable 
tent. But it should be thoroughly well designed to 
suit the house and garden. A pigeon-cote would come 
well in the upper part, and the face or faces open to 
the lawn might be closed in winter with movable 
shutters, when it would make a useful store-place for 
garden seats and much else. 



It must be some five-and-twenty years ago that I 
began to work at what I may now call my own strain 
of Primroses, unproving it a little every year by careful 
selection of the best for seed. The parents of the 
strain were a named kind, called (rolden Plover, and 
a white one, without name, that I found in a cottage 
garden. I had also a dozen plants about eight or nine 
years ago from a strong strain of Mr. Anthony Waterer's 
that was running on nearly the same lines; but a 
year later, when I had flowered them side by side, I 
liked my own one rather the best, and Mr. Waterer, 
seeing them soon after, approved of them so much 
that he took some to work with his own. I hold Mr. 
Waterer's strain in great admiration, and, though I 
tried for a good many years, never could come near 
him in red colourings. But as my own taste favoured 
the delicately-shaded flowers, and the ones most liked 
in the nursery seemed to be those with strongly con- 
trasting eye, it is likely that the two strains may be 
working still farther apart. 

They are, broadly speaking, white and yellow 



varieties of the strong bunch-flowered or Polyanthus 
kind, but they vary in detail so much, in form, colour, 
habit, arrangement, and size of eye and shape of edge, 
that one year thinking it might be useful to classify 
them I tried to do so, but gave it up after writing out 
the characters of sixty classes ! Their possible varia- 
tion seems endless. Every year among the seedlings 
there appear a number of charming flowers with some 
new development of size, or colour of flower, or beauty 
of foliage, and yet all within the narrow bounds of — 
white and yellow Primroses. 

Their time of flowering is much later than that of 
the true or single-stalked Primrose. They come into 
bloom early in April, though a certain number of 
poorly-developed flowers generally come much earlier, 
and they are at their best in the last two weeks of 
April and the first days of May. When the bloom 
wanes, and is nearly overtopped by the leaves, the 
time has come that I find best for dividing and re- 
planting. The plants then seem willing to divide, 
some almost falling apart in one's hands, and the new 
roots may be seen just beginning to form at the base 
of the crown. The plants are at the same time 
reUeved of the crowded mass of flower-stem, and, 
therefore, of the exhausting effort of forming seed, a 
severe drain on their strength. A certain number will 
not have made more than one strong crown, and a few 
single-crown plants have not flowered ; these, of course, 
do not divide. During the flowering time I keep a 


good look-out for those that I judge to be the most 
beautiful and desirable, and mark them for seed. 
These are also taken up, but are kept apart, the flower 
stems reduced to one or two of the most promising, 
and they are then planted in a separate place — some 
cool nursery comer. I find that the lifting and re- 
planting in no way checks the growth or well-being of 
the seed-pods. 

I remember some years ago a warm discussion in 
the gardening papers about the right time to sow the 
seed. Some gardeners of high standing were strongly 
for sowing it as soon as ripe, while others equaUy 
trustworthy advised holding it over till March. I have 
tried both ways, and have satisfied myself that it is 
a matter for experiment and decision in individual 
Sfardens. As nearly as I can make out, it is well in 
L^ «,a, to «,w when ripe, »d i. light one. to wait 
till March. In some heavy soils Primroses stand well 
for two years without division ; whereas in light ones, 
such as mine, they take up the food within reach in 
a much shorter time, so that by the second year the 
plant has become a crowded mass of weak crowns that 
only throw up poor flowers, and are by then so much 
exhausted that they are not worth dividing afterwards. 
In my own case, having tried both ways, I find the 
March sown ones much the best. 

The seed is sown in boxes in cold frames, and 
pricked out again into boxes when large enough to 
handle. The seedlings are planted out in June, when 


they seem to go on without any check whatever, and 
are just right for blooming next spring. 

The Prinurose garden is in a place by itself — a 
clearing half shaded by Oak, Chestnut, and HazeL I 
always think of the Hazel as a kind nurse to Prim- 
roses ; in the copses they generally grow together, and 
the finest Primrose plants are often nestled close in to 
the base of the nut-stool. Three paths run through 
the Primrose garden, mere narrow tracks between the 
beds, converging at both ends, something like the lines 
of longitude on a globe, the ground widening in the 
middle where there are two good-sized Oaks, and 
coming to a blunt point at each end, the only other 
planting near it being two other long-shaped strips of 
Idly of the Valley. 

Every year, before replanting, the Primrose ground 
is dug over and well manured. All day for two days 
I sit on a low stool dividing the plants; a certain 
degree of facility and expertness has come of long 
practice. The " rubber " for frequent knife-sharpening 
is in a paQ of water by my side; the lusciously 
fragrant heap of refuse leaf and flower-stem and old 
stocky root rises in front of me, changing its shape 
from a heap to a ridge, as when it comes to a certain 
height and bulk I back and back away from it. A 
boy feeds me with armfuls of newly-dug-up plants, 
two men are digging-in the cooling cow-dung at the 
farther end, and another carries away the divided 
plants tray by tray, and carefully replantd them. The 


still air, with only the very gentlest south-westerly 
breath in it, brings up the mighty boom of the great 
ship guns from the old seaport, thirty miles away, 
and the pheasants answer to the sound as they do to 

perature, the soft ooo of the wood-dove comes down 
from the near wood, the nightingale sings aknost over- 
head, but — either human happiness may never be quite 
complete, or else one is not philosophic enough to 
contemn life's lesser evils, for — oh, the midges ! 



I AH alwajTs surprised at the vague, not to say reckless, 
fashion in which garden folk set to work to describe 
the colours of flowers, and at the way in which quite 
wrong colours are attributed to them. It is done in 
perfect good faith, and without the least consciousness 
of describing wrongly. In many cases it appears to 
be because the names of certain substances have been 
used conventionally or poetically to convey the idea of 
certain colours. And some of these errors are so old 
that they have acquired a kind of respectability, and 
are in a way accepted without challenge. When they 
are used about familiar flowers it does not occur to one 
to detect them, because one knows the flower and its 
true colour ; but when the same old error is used in 
the description of a new flower, it is distinctly mislead- 
ing. For instance, when we hear of golden butter- 
cups, we know that it mesms bright-yellow buttercups ; 
but in the case of a new flower, or one not generally 
known, surely it is better and more accurate to say 
bright yellow at once. Nothing is more frequent in 
plant catalogues than "bright golden yellow," when 



bright yellow is meant. Grold is not bright yellow. I 
find that a gold piece laid on a gravel path, or against 
a sandy bank, nearly matches it in colour; and I 
cannot think of any flower that matches or even 
approaches the true colour of gold, though something 
near it may be seen in the pollen-covered anthers of 
many flowers. A match for gold may more nearly be 
found among dying beech leaves, and some dark 
colours of straw or dry grass bents, but none of these 
when they match the gold are bright yellow. In 
literature it is quite another matter ; when the poet or 
imaginative writer says, '* a field of golden buttercups," 
or *'a golden sunset," he is quite right, because he 
appeals to our artistic perception, and in such case 
only uses the word as an image of something that is 
rich and sumptuous and glowing. 

The same irrelevance of comparison seems to run 
through all the colours Flowers of a fiill, bright-blue 
colour are often described as of a '' brilliant amethystine 
blue." Why amethystine? The amethyst, as we 
generally see it, is a stone of a washy purple colour, 
and though there are amethysts of a fine purple, they 
are not so often seen as the paler ones, and I have 
never seen one even faintly approaching a really blue 
colour. What, therefore, is the sense of likening a 
flower, such as a Delphinium, which is really of a 
splendid pure-blue colour, to the duller and totally 
different colour of a third-rate gem ? 

Another example of the same slip-slop is the term 


flame-coloured, and it is often preceded by the word 
"gorgeous." This contradictory mixture of terms is 
generally used to mean bright scarlet. When I look 
at a flame, whether of fire or candle, I see that the 
colour is a rather pale yellow, with a reddish tinge 
about its upper forks, and side wings often of a bluish 
white — ^no scarlet anywhere. The nearest approach to 
red is in the coals, not in the flame. Li the case of 
the candle, the point of the wick is faintly red when 
compared with the flame, but about the flame there is 
no red whatever. A distant bonfire looks red at night, 
but I take it that the apparent redness is from seeing 
the flames through damp atmosphere, just as the har- 
vest-moon looks red when it rises. 

And the strange thing is that in all these cases the 
likeness to the unlike, and much less bright, colour is 
given with an air of conferring the highest compliment 
on the flower in question. It is as if, wishing to praise 
some flower of a beautiful blue, one called it a brilliant 
slate-roof blue. This sounds absurd, because it is 
unfamiliar, but the unsuitability of the comparison is 
scarcely greater than in the examples just quoted. 

It seems most reasonable in describing the colour 
of flowers to look out for substances whose normal 
colour shows but little variation — such, for example, as 
sulphur. The colour of sulphur is nearly always the 
same. Citron, lemon, and canary are useful colour- 
names, indicating di£Perent strengths of pure pale 
yellow, inclining towards a tinge of the palest green. 


Gbntian-blue is a useful word, bringing to mind the 
piercingly powerful hue of the Gentianella. So also 
is turquoise-blue, for the stone has little variety of 
shade, and the colour is always of the same type. 
Forget-me-not blue is also a good word, meaning the 
colour of the native water Forget-me-not, Sky-blue 
is a little vague, though it has come by the '' crystallis- 
ing" force of usage to stand for a blue rather pale 
than full, and not far from that of the Forget-me- 
not; indeed, I seem to remember written passages in 
which the colours of flower and firmament were used 
reciprocally, the one in describing the other. Cobalt 
i^ a word sometimes used, but more often misused, for 
only water-colour painters know just what it represents, 
and it is of Uttle use, as it so rarely occurs among 

Crimson is a word to beware of; it covers such a 
wide extent of ground, and is used so carelessly in 
plant-catalogues, that one cannot know whether it 
stands for a rich blood colour or for a maUgnant 
magenta. For the latter class of colour the term 
amaranth, so generally used in French plant-lists, is 
extremely useful, both as a definition and a warning. 
Salmon is an excellent colour-word, copper is also 
useful, the two covering a hmited range of beautiful 
colouring of the utmost value. Blood-red is also 
accurately descriptive. Terra-cotta is useful but in- 
definite, as it may mean anything between brick-red 
and buff. Red-lead, if it would be accepted as & 


colour-word, would be useful, denoting the shades of 
colour between the strongest orange and the palest 
scarlet, frequent in the lightest of the Oriental Poppies. 
Amber is a misleading word, for who is to know when it 
means the transparent amber, whose colour approaches 
that of resin, or the pale, almost opaque, duU-yellow 
kind. And what is meant by coral-red? It is the 
red of the old-fashioned dull-scarlet coral, or of the 
pink kind more recently in favour. 

The terms bronze and smoke may well be used in 
their place, as in describing or attempting to describe 
the wonderful colouring of such flowers as Spanish 
Iris, and the varieties of Iris of the sgualens section. 
But often in describing a flower a reference to texture 
much helps and strengthens the colour-word. I have 
often described the modest little Iris tuberosa as a 
flower made of green satin and black velvet. The 
green portion is only slightly green, but is entirely 
green satin, and the black of the velvet is barely blacky 
but is quite black-velvet-like. The texture of the 
flower of Ornithogalum niUans is silver satin, neither 
very silvery nor very satin-like, and yet so nearly 
suggesting the texture of both that the words may 
well be used in speaking of it. Indeed, texture plays 
so important a part in the appearance of colour-sur- 
face, that one can hardly think of colour without also 
thinking of texture. A piece of black satin and a 
piece of black velvet may be woven of the same batch 

of material, but when the satin is finished and tht» 



Telvet cut, the appearance is often so dissimilar that 
they may look quite different in colour. A working 
painter is never happy if you give him an oil-colour 
pattern to match in distemper ; he must have it of the 
same texture, or he will not undertake to get it like. 

What a wonderful range of colouring there is in 
black alone to a trained colour-eye ! There is the dull 
brown-black of soot, and the velvety brown-black of 
the bean-flower's blotch ; to my own eye, I have never 
found anything so entirely black in a natural product 
as the patch on the lower petals of Iris ibeHca, Is it 
not Buskin who says of Velasquez, that there is more 
colour in his black than in many another painter's 
whole palette ? The blotch of the bean-flower appears 
black at first, till you look at it close in the simlight, 
and then you see its rich velvety texture, so nearly like 
some of the brown-velvet markings on butterflies' 
wings. And the same kind of rich colour and textuie 
occurs again on some of the tough flat half-round 
funguses, marked with shaded rings, that grow out of 
old posts, and that I always enjoy as lessons of lovely 
colour-harmony of grey and brown and black. 

Much to be regretted is the disuse of the old word 
murrey, now only employed in heraldry. It stands for 
A dull red-purple, such as appears in the flower of the 
Virginian Allspice, and in the native Hound's-tongue, 
and often in seedling Auriculas. A fine strong-growing 
border Auricula was given to me by my valued friend 
the Curator of the Trinity College Botanic Garden, 


Dublin, to whicli he had given the excellently descrip- 
tive name, " Old Murrey." 

Sage-green is a good colour- word, for, winter or 
summer, the sage-leaves change but little. Olive- 
green is not so clear, though it has come by use to 
stand for a brownish green, like the glass of a wine- 
bottle held up to the light, but perhaps bottle-green is 
the better word. And it is not clear what part or 
condition of the olive is meant, for the ripe fruit is 
nearly black, and the tree in general, and the leaf in 
detail, are of a cool-grey colour. Perhaps the colour- 
word is taken from the colour of the unripe fruit 
pickled in brine, as we see them on the table. Grass- 
green any one may understand, but I am always puzzled 
by apple-green. Apples are of so many different greens, 
to say nothing, of red and yeUow ; and as for pea-green, 
I have no idea what it means. 

I notice in plant-lists the most reckless and indis- 
criminate use of the words purple, violet, mauve, lilac, 
and lavender, and as they are all related, I think they 
should be used with the greater caution. I should say 
that mauve and lilac cover the same groimd ; the word 
mauve came into use within my recollection. It is 
French for mallow, and the flower of the wild plant 
may stand as the type of what the word means. 
Lavender stands for a colder or bluer range of pale 
purples, with an inclination to grey ; it is a useful word, 
because the whole colour of the flower spike varies so 
little. Violet stands for the dark garden violet, and I 


always think of the grand colour of Iris reticulata as an 
example of a rich violet-purple. But purple equally 
stands for this, and for many shades redder. 

Snow-white is very vague. There is nearly always 
so much blue about the colour of snow, from its 
crystalline surface and partial transparency, and the 
texture is so imlike that of any kind of flower, that the 
comparison is scarcely permissible. I take it that the 
use of " snow-white " is, like that of " golden-yellow," 
more symboUcal than descriptive, meaning any white 
that gives an impression of purity. Nearly all white 
flowers are yellowish-white, and the comparatively 
few that are bluish-white, such, for example, as 
Omphalodes vema, are of a texture so different from 
snow that one cannot compare them at all. I should 
say that most white flowers are near the colour of chalk ; 
for although the word chalky-white has been used in 
rather a contemptuous way, the colour is reaUy a very 
beautiful warm white, but by no means an intense white. 
The flower that always looks to me the whitest is that 
of Iberis sempervirens. The white is dead and hard, 
like a piece of glazed stoneware, quite without play or 
variation, and hence uninteresting. 



The sweet scents of a garden are by no means the 
least of its many delights. Even January brings 
ChxTn/ynanthus fragranSy one of the sweetest and strongest 
scented of the year's blooms — ^little half-transparent 
yellowish bells on an otherwise naked-looking wall 
shrub. They. have no stalks, but if they are floated 
in a shallow dish of water, they last well for several 
days, and give ojBT a powerful fragrance in a room. 

During some of the warm days that nearly always 
come towards the end of February, if one knows where 
to look in some smmy, sheltered comer of a hazel 
copse, there will be sure to be some Primroses, and 
the first scent of the year's first Primrose is no small 
pleasure. The garden Primroses soon follow, and, 
meanwhile, in all open winter weather there have been 
Czar Violets and IrU stylosa, with its delicate scent, 
faintly violet-like, but with a dash of tulip. Iris reti- 
mUata is also sweet, with a still stronger perfume of the 
violet character. But of all Irises I know, the sweetest 
to smell is a later blooming one, /. graminea. Its 
small purple flowers are almost hidden among the 



thick mass of grassy foliage which rises high above the 
bloom ; but they are worth looking for, for the sake 
of the sweet and rather penetrating scent, which is 
exactly like that of a perfectly-ripened plmn. 

All the scented flowers of the Primrose tribe are 
delightful — Primrose, Polyanthus, Auricula, Cowslip. 
The actual sweetness is most apparent in the Cowslip ; 
in the Auricula it has a pungency, and at the same 
time a kind of veiled mystery, that accords with the 
clouded and curiously-blended colourings of many of 
the flowers. 

Sweetbriar is one of the strongest of the year's 
eaxly scents, and closely following is the woodland 
incense of the Larch, both freely given oS and far- 
wafted, as is also that of the hardy Daphnes. The 
first quarter of the year also brings the bloom of most 
of the deciduous Magnolias, all with a fragrance nearly 
allied to that of the large one that blooms late in 
summer, but not so strong and heavy. 

The sweetness of a sxm-baked bank of Wallflower 
belongs to April DaiSbdils, lovely as they are, must 
be classed among flowers of rather rank smell, and yet 
it is welcome, for it means spring-time, with its own 
charm and its glad promise of the wealth of summer 
bloom that is soon to come. The scent of the Jonquil, 
Poeticus, and Polyanthus sections are best. Jonquil 
perhaps best of all, for it is without the rather coarse 
scent of the Trumpets and Nonsuch, and also escapes 
the penetrating lusciousness of poeticus and taaetta, 


which in the south of Europe is exaggerated in the 
case of tazetta into something distinctly unpleasant. 

What a delicate refinement there is in the scent of 
the wild Wood- Violet ; it is never overdone. It seems 
to me to be quite the best of all the violet-scents, just 
because of its temperate quaJity. It gives exactly 
enough, and never that perhaps-just-a-trifle-too-much 
that may often be noticed about a bunch of frame- 
Violets, and that also in the south is intensified to a 
degree that is distinctly undesirable. For just as 
colour may be strengthened to a painful glare, and 
sound may be magnified to a torture, so even a sweet 
scent may pass its appointed bounds and become an 
overpoweringly evil smell. Even in England several 
of the Lilies, whose smell is dehcious in open-air wafts» 
camiot be borne in a room. In the south of Europe a 
Tuberose cannot be brought indoors, and even at home I 
remember one warm wet August how a plant of Balm 
of Gilead (Cedronella triphylla) had its always powerful 
but usually agreeably aromatic smell so much ex- 
aggerated that it smelt exactly like coal-gas! A 
brother in Jamaica writes of the large white Jas- 
mine : " It does not do to bring it indoors here ; the 
scent is too strong. One day I thought there was a 
dead rat under the floor (a thing which did happen 
once), and behold, it was a glassful of fresh white 
Jasmine that was the offender ! " 

While on this less pleasant part of the subject, I 
cannot help thinking of the horrible smell of the 


Dragon Arum ; and yet how fitting an accompaniment 
it is to the plant, for if ever there was a plant that 
looked wicked and repellent, it is this ; and yet, like 
Medusa, it has its own kind of fearful beauty. In this 
family the smell seems to accompany the appearance, 
and to diminish in unpleasantness as the flower in- 
creases in amiability ; for in our native wild Arum the 
smell, though not exactly nice, is quite innocuous, and 
in the beautiful white Arum or Calla of our green- 
houses there i& as little scent as a flower can well have, 
especially one of such large dimensions. In Fungi the 
bad smell is nearly always an indication of poisonous 
nature, so that it would seem to be given as a warning. 
But it has always been a matter of wonder to me why 
the root of the harmless and friendly Laurustinus 
should have been given a particularly odious smell — a 
smell I would rather not attempt to describe. On 
moist warmish days in mid-seasons I have sometimes 
had a whiff of the same unpleasantness from the bushes 
themselves; others of the same tribe have it in a 
much lesser degree. There is a curious smell about 
the yellow roots of Berberis, not exactly nasty, and a 
strong odour, not really offensive, but that I personally 
dislike, about the root of Chrysanthemum maximum. On 
the other hand, I always enjoy digging up, dividing, 
and replanting the Asarums, both the common Euro- 
pean and the American kinds; their roots have a 
pleasant and most interesting smell, a good deal like 
mild pepper and ginger mixed, but more strongly 


aromatia The same class of smell, but much fainter, 
and always reminding me of very good and delicate 
pepper, I enjoy in the flowers of the perennial Lupines. 
The only other hardy flowers I can think of whose 
smell is distinctly ojBfensive are LUium pyreTiaicum^ 
smelling like a mangy dog, and some of the Schizanthus, 
that are redolent of dirty hen-house. 

There is a class of scent that, though it can neither 
be called sweet nor aromatic, is decidedly pleasing and 
interesting. Such is that of Bracken and other Fern- 
fronds, Ivy-leaves, Box-bushes, Vine-blossom, Elder- 
flowers, and Fig-leaves. There are the sweet scents 
that are wholly delightful — most of the Roses, Honey- 
suckle, Primrose, Cowslip, Mignonette, Pink, Carnation, 
Heliotrope, Lily of the Valley, and a host of others ; 
then there is a class of scent that is intensely powerful, 
and gives an impression almost of intemperance or 
voluptuousness, such as Magnolia, Tuberose, Gardenia, 
Stephanotis, and Jasmine ; it is strange that these all 
have white flowers of thick leathery texture. In 
strongest contrast to these are the sweet, wholesome, 
wind-wafted scents of clover-field, of bean-field, and of 
new-mown hay, and the soft honey-scent of sun-baked 
heather, and of a buttercup meadow in April. Still 
more delicious is the wind-swept sweetness of a wood 
of Larch or of Scotch Fir, and the deUcate perfume of 
young-leaved Birch, or the heavier scent of the flower- 
ing lime. Out on the moorlands, besides the sweet 
heather-scent, is that of flowering Broom and Gorse 


and of the Bracken, so like the first smell of the sea 
as you come near it after a long absence. 

How curiously scents of flowers and leaves fall into 
classes — often one comes upon related smells running 
into one another in not necessarily related plants. 
There is a kind of scent that I sometimes meet with 
about clumps of Brambles, a little like the waft of a 
Fir wood ; it occurs again (quite naturally) in the first 
taste of blackberry jam, and then turns up again in 
Sweet Sultan. It is allied to the smell of the dying 
Strawberry leaves. 

The smell of the Primrose occurs again in a much 
stronger and ranker form in the root-stock, and the 
same thing happens with the Violets and Pansies -, in 
Violets the plant-smell is pleasant, though without 
the high perfume of the flower; but the smell of 
an overgrown bed of Pansy-plants is rank to offen- 

Perhaps the most delightful of all flower scents are 
those whose tender and delicate quality makes one 
wish for just a little more. Such a scent is that of 
Apple-blossom, and of some small Pansies, and of the 
wild Rose and the Honeysuckle. Among Roses alone 
the variety and degree of sweet scent seems almost 
infinite. To me the sweetest of all is the Provence, 
the old Cabbage Rose of our gardens. When something 
approaching this appears, as it frequently does, among 
the hybrid perpetuals, I always greet it as the real 
sweet Rose smell. One expects every Rose to be 


fragrant, and it is a disappointment to find that such a 
beautiful flower as Baroness Rothschild is wanting in 
the sweet scent that would be the fitting complement 
of its incomparable form, and to perceive in so hand* 
some a Rose as Malmaison a heavy smell of decidedly 
bad quality. But such cases are not frequent. 

There is much variety in the scent of the Tea-Roses, 
the actual tea flavour being strongest in the Dijon 
class. Some have a powerful scent that is very near 
that of a ripe Nectarine ; of this the best example I 
know is the old rose Groubault. The half-double red 
Gloire de Rosamfene has a delightful scent of a kind 
that is rare among Roses. It has a good deal of the 
quality of that mysterious and delicious smell given off 
by the dying strawberry leaves, aromatic, pungent, 
and deUcately refined, searching and powerful, and yet 
subtle and elusive — the best sweet smell of all the year. 
One cannot have it for the seeking ; it comes as it 
will — a scent that is sad as a forecast of the inevitable 
certainty of the flower-year's waning, and yet sweet 
with the promise of its timely new birth. 

Sometimes I have met with a scent of somewhat 
the same mysterious and aromatic kind when passing 
near a bank clothed with the great St. John's Wort. 
As this also occurs in early autumn, I suppose it to be 
occasioned by the decay of some of the leaves. And 
there is a small yellow-flowered PotentiUa that has a 
scent of the same character, but always freely and 
willingly given off' — a humble-looking little plant, well 


worth growing for its sweetness, that much to my 
regret I have lost. 

I observe that when a Rose exists in both single 
and double form the scent is increased in the double 
beyond the proportion that one would expect. Sosa 
ludda in the ordinary single state has only a very 
slight scent ; in the lovely double form it is very sweet, 
and has acquired somewhat of the Moss-rose smelL 
The wild Bumet-rose {R. spinosissima) has very little 
smell ; but the Scotch Briars, its garden relatives, have 
quite a powerful fragrance, a pale flesh-pink kind, 
whose flowers are very round and globe-like, being the 
sweetest of alL 

But of all the sweet scents of bush or flower, the 
ones that give me the greatest pleasure are those of the 
aromatic class, where they seem to have a wholesome 
resinous or balsamic base, with a delicate perfume 
added. When I pick and crush in my hand a twig of 
Bay, or brush against a bush of Rosemary, or tread 
upon a tuft of Thyme, or pass through incense-laden 
brakes of Cistus, I feel that here is all that is best and 
purest and most refined, and nearest to poetry, in the 
range of faculty of the sense of smelL 

The scents of all these sweet shrubs, many of 
them at home in dry and rocky places in far-away 
lower latitudes, recall in a way far more distinct than 
can be done by a mere mental effort of recollection, 
rambles of years ago in many a lovely southern land — 
in the islands of the Greek Archipelago, beautiful in 


form, and from a distance looking bare and arid, and 
yet with a scattered growth of lowly, sweet-smelling 
bush and herb, so that as you move among them every 
plant seems full of sweet sap or aromatic gum, and as 
you tread the perfumed carpet the whole air is scented ; 
then of dusky groves of tall Cypress and Myrtle, 
forming mysterious shadowy woodland temples that 
imceasingly offer up an incense of their own surpassing 
fragrance, and of cooler hollows in the same lands and 
in the nearer Orient, where the Oleander grows like the 
willow of the north, and where the Sweet Bay throws 
up great tree-like suckers of surprising strength and 
vigour. It is only when one has seen it grow like this 
that one can appreciate the full force of the old Bible 
simile. Then to find oneself standing (while still on 
earth) in a grove of giant Myrtles fifteen feet high is 
like having a little chink of the door of heaven opened, 
as if to show a momentary glimpse of what good 
things may be beyond ! 

Among the sweet shrubs from the nearer of these 
southern regions, one of the best for English gardens is 
Cistus laurifoliuB. Its wholesome, aromatic sweetness is 
freely given off*, even in winter. In this, as in its near 
relative, C. l(zdani/erus, the scent seems to come from 
the gummy surface, and not from the body of the leaf. 
Caryopteris Mastacanthus, the Mastic plant, from China, 
one of the few shrubs that flower in autumn, has 
strongly-scented woolly leaves, something like turpen- 
tine, but more refibaed. Ledum paluatre has a delightful 


scent when its leaves are bruised. The wild Bog- 
myrtle, so common in Scotland, has ahnost the sweet- 
ness of the true Myrtle, as has also the broad-leaved 
North American kind, and the Candleberry Gale 
(Gamptania asplenifolia) firom the same coimtry. The 
myrtle-leaved Rhododendron is a dwarf shrub of neat 
habit, whose bruised leaves have also a myrtle-like smell, 
though it is less strong than in the Gales. I wonder 
why the leaves of nearly all the hardy aromatic shrubs 
are of a hard, dry texture ; the exceptions are so few 
that it seems to be a law. 

If my copse were some acres larger I should like 
nothing better than to make a good-sized clearing, 
laying out to the sun, and to plant it with these 
aromatic bushes and herbs. The main plantmg should 
be of Cistus and Rosemary and Lavender, and for the 
shadier edges the Myrtle-leaved Rhododendron, and 
Ledum paiustre, and the three Bog-myrtles. Then 
again in the sun would be Hyssop and Catmint, and 
Lavender-cotton and Southernwood, with others of the 
scented Artemisias, and Sage and MarjorauL All the 
ground would be carpeted with Thyme and Basil and 
others of the dwarfer sweet-herbs. There would be no 
regular paths, but it would be so planted that in most 
parts one would have to brush up against the sweet 
bushes, and sometimes push through them, as one does 
on the thinner-clothed of the mountain slopes of 
southern Italy. 

Among the many wonders of the vegetable world 


are the flowers that hang their heads and seem to sleep 
in the daytime, and that awaken as the sun goes down, 
and live their waking life at night. And those that 
are most familiar in our gardens have powerful 
perfumes, except the Evening Primrose (OEnothera), 
which has only a milder sweetness. It is vain to try 
and smell the night-given scent in the daytime ; it 
is either withheld altogether, or some other smell, 
quite different, and not always pleasant, is there instead. 
I have tried hard in daytime to get a whiff of the 
night sweetness of Nicotiana affiniSy but can only get hold 
of something that smells like a horse I Some of the best 
of the night-scents are those given by the Stocks and 
Rockets. They are sweet in the hand in the daytime, 
but the best of the sweet scent seems to be like a thin 
film on the surface. It does not do to smell them too 
vigorously, for, especially in Stocks and Wallflowers, 
there is a strong, rank, cabbage-like under-smell. But 
in the sweetness given off so freely in the summer 
evening there is none of this ; then they only give 
their very best. 

But of all the &mily, the finest fragrance comes 
from the small annual Night-scented Stock (Jdatthiola 
hicomis), a plant that in daytime is almost ugly ; for the 
leaves are of a dull-grey colour, and the flowers are 
small and also dull-coloured, and they are closed and 
droop and look unhappy. But when the sun has set 
the modest Uttle plant seems to come to life ; the grey 
foliage is almost beautiful in its harmonious relation to 


the half-light ; the flowers stand up and expand, and 
in the early twilight show tender colouring of famt 
pink and lilac, and pour out upon the still night-air a 
lavish gift of sweetest fragrance ; and the modest little 
plant that in strong sunlight looked unworthy of a 
place in the garden, now rises to its appointed rank 
and reigns supreme as its prime delight. 



Several times during these notes I have spoken in 
a disparaging manner of the show-table ; and I have 
not done so lightly, but with all the care and thought 
and power of observation that my limited capacity is 
worth ; and, broadly, I have come to this : that shows^ 
such as those at the fortnightly meetings of the Koyal 
Horticultural Society, and their more important one in 
the early summer, whose object is to bring together 
beautiful flowers of all kinds, to a place where they 
may be seen, are of the utmost value ; and that any 
shows anywhere for a like purpose, and especially 
where there are no money prizes, are also sure to be 
helpful. And the test question I put to myself at any 
show is this, Does this really help the best interests 
of horticulture ? And as far as I can see that it does 
this, I think the show right and helpful ; and whenever 
it does not, I think it harmful and misleading. 

The love of gardening has so greatly grown and 
spread within the last few years, that the need of really 
good and beautiful garden flowers is already far in 
advance of the demand for the so-called ''florists'* 


flowers, by which I mean those that find favour in 
the exclusive shows of Societies for the growing and 
exhibition of such flowers as Tulips, Carnations, Dahlias, 
and Chrysanthemums. In support of this I should 
like to know what proportion of demand there is, in 
Dahlias, for instance, between the show kinds, whose 
aim and object is the show-table, and the decorative 
kinds, that are indisputably better for garden use. 
Looking at the catalogue of a leading Dahlia nursery, 
I find that the decorative kinds fill ten pages, while 
the show kinds, including Pompones, fill only three. 
Is not this some indication of what is wanted in gar- 

I am of opinion that the show-table is im worthily 
used when its object is to be an end in itself, and that 
it should be only a means to a better end, and that 
when it exhibits what has become merely a ''£Euicy," 
it loses sight of its honourable position as a trustworthy 
exponent of horticulture, and has degenerated to a 
leaser use. When, as in Chrysanthemum shows, the 
flowers on the board are of no use anywhere but on thai 
hoard, and for the purpose of gaining a money prize, I 
hold that the show-table has a debased aim, and a 
•debasing influence. Beauty, in all the best sense, is 
put aside in favour of set rules and measurements, and 
the production of a thing that is of no use or value; 
and individuals of a race of plants capable of producing 
the highest and most delightful forms of beauty, and 
of brightening our homes, and even gardens, during 


the dim days of early winter, are teased and tortured 
and fatted and bloated into ugly and useless mon- 
strosities for no purpose but to gain money. And 
when private gardeners go to these shows and see 
how the prizes are awarded, and how all the glory is 
accorded to the first-prize bloated monster, can we 
wonder that the effect on their minds is confusing, if 
not absolutely harmful ? 

Shows of Carnations and Pansies, where the older 
rules prevail, are equally misleading, where the single 
flowers are arrayed in a flat circle of paper. As with 
the Chrysanthemum, every sort of trickery is allowed 
in arranging the petals of the Carnation blooms : petals 
are pulled out or stuck in, and they are twisted about, 
and groomed and combed, and manipulated with 
special tools — "dressed," as the show-word has it — 
dressed so elaborately that the dressing only stops 
short of applying actual paint and perfumery. Already 
in the case of Carnations a better influence is being 
felt, and at the London shows there are now classes 
for border Carnations set up in long-stalked bunches 
just as they grow. It is only like this that their 
value as outdoor plants can be tested ; for many of the 
show sorts have miserably weak stalks, and a very 
poor, lanky habit of growth. 

Then the poor Pansies have single blooms laid flat 
on white papers, and are only approved if they will lie 
quite flat and show an outline of a perfect circle. All 
that is most beautiful in a Pansy, the wing-like curves. 


the waved or slightly fluted radiations, the scarcely 
perceptible imdulation of surface that displays to per- 
fection the admirable delicacy of velvety texture ; all 
the little tender tricks and ways that make the Pansy 
one of the best-loved of garden flowers; all this is 
overlooked, and not only passively overlooked, but 
overtly contemned. The show-pansy judge appears 
to have no eye, or brain, or heart, but to have in 
their place a pair of compasses with which to describe 
a circle! All idea of s:arden delififht seems to be 
exoladsd, „ thi, kind o/judging .ppel. .o no ^ 
cognition of beauty for beauty's sake, but to hard 
systems of measurement and rigid arrangement and 
computation that one would think more applicable to 
astronomy or geometry than to any matter relating to 

I do most strongly urge that beauty of the highest 
class should be the aim, and not anything of the 
nature of fashion or "fancy/' and that every effort 
should be made towards the raising rather than the 
lowering of the standard of taste. 

The Societies which exist throughout the country 
are well organised; many have existed for a great 
number of years ; they are the local sources of horti- 
cultural education, to which large circles of people 
naturally look for g^dance ; and though they produce — 
and especially the Rose shows — quantities of beautiful 
things, it cannot but be perceived by all who have had 
the benefit of some refinement of education, that in 


very many cases they either deliberately teach, or at 
any rate allow to be seen with their sanction, what 
cannot fail to be debasing to public taste. 

I will just take two examples to show how obvious 
methods of leading taste are not only overlooked, but 
even perverted; for it is not only in the individual 
blooms that much of the show-teaching is unworthy, 
but also in the training of the plants ; so that a plant 
that by nature has some beauty of form, is not 
encouraged or even allowed to develop that beauty, but 
is trained into some shape that is not only foreign to 
its own nature, but is absolutely ugly and ungraceful, 
and entirely stupid The natural habit of the Chrys- 
anthemum is to grow in the form of several upright 
stems. They spring up sheaf-wise, straight upright for 
a time, and only bending a little outwards above, to 
give room for the branching heads of bloom. The 
stems are rather stiff, because they are half woody at 
the base. In the case of pot-plants it would seem 
right only so feir to stake or train them as to give the 
necessary support by a few sticks set a little outwards 
at the top, so that each stem may lean a little over, 
after the manner of a Bamboo, when their clustered 
heads of flower would be given enough room, and be 
seen to the greatest advantage. 

But at shows, the triumph of the training art seems 
to be to drag the poor thing round and round over an 
internal scaffolding of sticks, with an infinite number 
of ties and cross-braces, so that it makes a sort of 


shapeless ball, and to arrange the flowers so that they 
are equally spotted all over it, by tying back some almost 
to snapping-point, and by dragging forward others to the 
verge of dislocation. I have never seen anj^thing so 
ugly in the way of potted plants as a certain kind of 
Chrysanthemum that has incurved flowers of heavy 
sort of dull leaden-looking red-purple colour trained 
in this manner. Such a sight gives me a feeling of 
shame, not unmixed with wrathful indignation. I ask 
myself, What is it for ? and I get no answer. I ask 
a practical gardener what it is for, and he says, '' Oh, 
it is one of the ways they are trained for shows." I 
ask him, Does he think it pretty, or is it any use ? and 
he says, *^ Well, they think it makes a nice variety ; " 
and when I press him further, and say I consider it a 
very nasty variety, and does he think nasty varieties are 
better than none, the question is beyond him, and he 
smiles vaguely and edges away, evidently thinking my 
conversation perplexing, and my company undesirable. 
I look again at the unhappy plant, and see its poor 
leaves fat with an unwholesome obesity, and seeming 
to say, We were really a good bit mildewed, but have 
been doctored up for the show by being crammed and 
stuffed with artificial aliment ! 

My second example is that of Azalea indiea. What 
is prettier in a room than one of these in its little tree 
form, a true tree, with tiny trunk and wide-spreading 
branches, and its absurdly large and lovely flowers? 
Surely it is the most perfect room ornament that we 


can have in tree shape in a moderate-sized pot ; and 
where else can one see a tree loaded with lovely bloom 
whose individual flowers have a diameter equal to five 
times that of the trunk ? 

But the show decrees that all this is wrong, and 
that the tiny, brittle branches must be trained sti£9y 
round till the shape of the plant shows as a sort of 
cylinder. Again I ajsk myself. What is this for ? What 
does it teach ? Can it be really to teach with 
deliberate intention that instead of displaying its 
natural and graceful tree form it should aim at a more 
desirable kind of beauty, such as that of the chimney- 
pot or drain-pipe, and that this is so important that it 
is right and laudable to devote to it much time and 
delicate workmanship ? 

I cannot but think, as well as hope, that the strong 
influences for good that are now being brought to bear 
on all departments of gardening may reach this class of 
show, for there are already more hopeful signs in the 
admission of classes for groups arranged for decoration. 
• The prize-show system no doubt creates its own 
evils, because the judges, and those who frame the 
schedules, have been in most cases men who have a 
knowledge of flowers, but who are not people of culti- 
vated taste, and in deciding what points are to consti- 
tute the merits of a flower they have to take such 
qualities as are within the clearest understanding of 
people of average intelligence and average education — 
such, for instance, as size that can be measured. 


sjmametry that can be easily estimated, thickness of 
petal that can be felt, and such qualities of colour as 
appeal most strongly to the uneducated eye ; so that 
a flower may possess features or qualities that endow 
it with the highest beauty, but that exclude it, because 
the hard and narrow limits of the show-laws provide 
no means of dealing with it. It is, therefore, thrown 
out, not because they have any fault to find with it, 
but because it does not concern them ; and the ordinary 
gardener, to whose practice it might be of the highest 
value, accepting the verdict of the show-judge as an 
infallible guide, also treats it with contempt and 

Now, all this would not so much matter if it 
did not delude those whose taste is not sufficiently 
educated to enable them to form an opinion of their 
own in accordance with the best and truest standards 
of beauty ; for I venture to repeat that what we have to 
look for for the benefit of our gardens, and for our own 
1)ettering and increase of happiness in those gardens, 
are things that are beautiful, rather than things that 
are round, or straight, or thick, still less than for those 
that are new, or curious, or astonishing. For all these 
false gods are among us, and many are they who are 
willing to worship. 



When I look back over thirty years of gardening, I 
see what an extraordinary progress there has been, not 
only in the introduction of good plants new to general 
cultivation, but also in the home production of im- 
proved kinds of old favourites. In annual plants 
alone there has been a remarkable advance. And 
here again, though many really beautiful things are 
being brought forward, there seems always to be an 
undue value assigned to a fresh development, on the 
score of its novelty. 

Now it seems to me, that among the thousands of 
beautiful things already at hand for garden use, there 
is no merit whatever in novelty or variety unless the 
thing new or different is distinctly more beautiful, or 
in some such way better than an older thing of the 
same class. 

And there seems to be a general wish among seed 
growers just now to dwarf ajl annual plants. Now, 
when a plant is naturally of a difiuse habit, the fixing 
of a dwarfer variety may be a distinct gain to horti- 
culture — it may just make a good garden plant out of 



one that was formerly of indifferent quality ; but there 
seems to me to be a kind of stupidity in inferring 
from this that all annuals are the better for dwarfing. 
I take it that the beddiag system has had a good deal 
to do with it. It no doubt enables ignorant gardeners 
to use a larger variety of plants as senseless colour- 
masses, but it is obvious that many, if not most, of 
the plants are individually made much uglier by the 
process. Take, for example, one of the dwarfest Agera- 
tiuns : what a silly little dumpy, formless, pincushion 
of a thing it is ! And then the dwarfest of the China 
Asters. Here is a plant (whose chief weakness already 
Ues in a certam over-stiffiiess) made stiffer and more 
shapeless still by dwarfing and by cramming with too 
many petals. The Comet Asters of later years are a 
much-improved type of flower, with a looser shape and 
a certain degree of approach to grace and beauty. 
When this kind came out it was a noteworthy novelty, 
not because it was a novelty, but because it was a 
better and more beautiful thing. Also among the 
same Asters the introduction of a better class of red 
colouring, first of the blood-red and then of the so- 
called scarlet shades, was a good variety, because it was 
the distinct bettering of the colour of a popular race 
of garden-flowers, whose red and pink colourings had 
hitherto been of a bad and rank quality. 

It is quite true that here and there the dwarf 
kind is a distinctly useful thing, as in the dwarf 
Nasturtiums. In this grand plant one is glad to have 


dwarf ones as well as the old trailing kinds. I even 
confess to a certain liking for the podgy little dwarf 
Snapdragons ; they are iingracefdl little dumpy things, 
but they happen to have come in some tender colour- 
ings of pale yellow and pale pink, that give them a 
kind of absurd prettiness, and a certain garden-value. 
I also look at them as a little floral joke that is harm- 
less and not displeasing, but they cannot for a moment 
compare in beauty with the free-growing Snapdragon 
of the older type. This I always think one of the 
best and most interesting and admirable of garden- 
plants. Its beauty is lost if it is crowded up among 
other things in a border ; it should be grown in a dry 
wall or steep rocky bank, where its handsome bushy 
growth and finely-poised spikes of bloom can be well 

One of the annuals that I think is entirely spoilt 
by dwarfing is Love-in-a-Mist, a plant I hold in high 
admiration. Many years ago I came upon some of it 
in a small garden, of a type that I thought extremely 
desirable, with a double flower of just the right degree 
of fulness, and of an unusually fine colour. I was 
fortunate enough to get some seed, and have never 
grown any other, nor have I ever seen elsewhere any 
that I think can compare with it. 

The Zinnia is another fine annual that has been 
much spoilt by its would-be improvers. When a 
Zinnia has a hard, stiff, tall flower, with a great many 
rows of petals piled up one on top of another, and 


when it8 habit is dwarfed to a mean degree of squat- 
ness, it looks to me both ugly and absurd, whereas 
a reasonably double one, well branched, and two feet 
high, is a handsome plant. 

I also think that Stocks and Wallflowers are much 
handsomer when rather tall and branching. Dwarf 
Stocks, moreover, are invariably spattered with soil in 
heavy autumn rain. 

An example of the improver not knowing where to 
stop in the matter of colouring, always strikes me in 
the Gaillardias, and more especially in the perennial 
kind, that is increased by division as well as by seed. 
The flower is naturally of a strong orange-yellow colour, 
with a narrow ring of red round the centre. The 
improver has sought to increase the width of the red 
ring. Up to a certain point it makes a livelier and 
brighter-looking flower; but he has gone too far, and 
extended the red till it has become a red flower with 
a narrow yellow edge. The red also is of a rather 
dull and heavy nature, so that instead of a handsome 
yellow flower with a broad central ring, here is an ugly 
red one with a yellow border. There is no positive 
harm done, as the plant has been propagated at every 
stage of development, and one may choose what one 
will ; but to see them together is an instructive lesson. 

No annual plant has of late years been so much 
improved as the Sweet Pea, and one reason why its 
charming beauty and scent are so enjoyable is, that 
they grow tall, and can be seen on a level with the 


eye. There can be no excuse whatever for dwarfing 
this, as has lately been done. There are abready 
plenty of good flowing plants under a foot high, and 
the little dwarf white monstrosity, now being followed 
by coloured ones of the same habit, seems to me 
worthy of nothing but condemnation. It would be 
as right and sensible to dwarf a Hollyhock into a 
podgy mass a foot high, or a Pentstemon, or a Fox- 
glove. Happily these have as yet escaped dwarfing, 
though I regret to see that a deformity that not un- 
frequently appears among garden Foxgloves, looking 
like a bell-shaped flower topping a stunted spike, 
appears to have been " fixed," and is being offered as 
a " novelty." Here is one of the clearest examples of 
a new development which is a distinct debasement of 
a naturally beautiful form, but which is nevertheless 
being pushed forward in trade : it has no merit what- 
ever in itself, and is only likely to sell because it is 
new and curious. 

And all this parade of distortion and deformity 
comes about from the grower losing sight of beauty as 
the first consideration, or from his not having the 
knowledge that would enable him to determine what 
are the points of character in various plants most 
deserving of development, and in not knowing when 
or where to stop. Abnormal size, whether greatly 
above or much below the average, appeals to the vulgar 
and imeducated eye, and will always command its 
attention and wonderment. But then the production 


of the immense size that provokes astonishment, and 
the misapplied ingenuity that produces unusual dwarf- 
ing, are neither of them very high aims. 

And much as I feel grateful to those who improve 
garden flowers, I venture to repeat my strong convic- 
tion that their efforts in selection and other methods 
should be so directed as to keep in view the attainment 
of beauty in the first place, and as a point of honour ; 
not in mere increase of size of bloom or compactness 
of habit — ^many plants have been spoilt by excess of 
both ; not for variety or novelty as ends in themselves, 
but only to welcome them, and offer them, if they are 
distinctly of garden value in the best sense. For if 
plants are grown or advertised or otherwise pushed on 
any other account than that of their possessing some 
worthy form of beauty, they become of the same nature 
as any other article in trade that is got up for sale 
for the sole benefit of the seller, that is unduly lauded 
by advertisement, and that makes its first appeal to 
the vulgar eye by an exaggerated and showy pictorial 
representation ; that will serve no useful purpose, and 
for which there is no true or healthy demand. 

No doubt much of it comes about from the un- 
wholesome pressure of trade competition, which in a 
way obliges all to follow where some lead I trust 
that my many good friends in the trade will under- 
stand that my remarks are not made in any personal 
sense whatever. I know that some of them feel much 
as I do on some of these points, but that in many 


ways they are helpless, being all bound in a kind of 
bondage to the general system. And there is one 
great evil that calls loudly for redress, but that will 
endure until some of the mightiest of them have the 
energy and courage to band themselves together and 
to declare that it shall no longer exist among them. 



Weeding is a delightful occupation, especially after 
summer rain, when the roots come up clear and clean. 
One gets to know how many and various are the ways 
of weeds — as many almost as the moods of human 
creatures. How easy and pleasant to pull up are the 
soft annuals like duckweed and Groundsel, and how 
one looks with respect at deep-rooted things like 
Docks, that make one go and fetch a spade. Comfrey 
is another thing with a terrible root, and every bit 
must be got out, as it will grow again from the 
smallest scrap. And hard to get up are the two Bry- 
onies, the green and the black, with such deep-reaching 
roots, that, if not weeded up within their Gist year, will 
have to be seriously dug out later. The white Con- 
volvulus, one of the loveliest of native plants, has a 
most persistently running root, of which every joint 
will quickly form a new plant. Some of the worst 
weeds to get out are Gbutweed and Coltsfoot. Though 
I live on a light soil, comparatively easy to clean, I 
have done some gardening in clay, and well know what 



a despairing job it is to get the bits of either of these 
roots out of the stiff clods. 

The most persistent weed in my soil is the small 
running Sheep's Sorrel. First it makes a patch, and 
then sends out thready running roots all round, a foot 
or more long ; these, if not checked, establish new 
bases of operation, and so it goes on, always spreading 
farther and farther. When this happens in soft ground 
that can be hoed and weeded it matters less, but in 
the lawn it is a more serious matter. Its presence 
always denotes a poor, sandy soil of rather a sour 

Goutweed is a pest in nearly all gardens, and very 
difficult to get out. When it runs into the root of 
some patch of hardy plant, if the plant can be spared^ 
I find it best to send it at once to the bum-heap ; or 
if it is too precious, there is nothing for it but to cut it 
all up and wash it out, to be sure that not the smallest 
particle of the enemy remains. Some weeds are 
deceiving — Sow-thistle, for instance, which has the look, 
of promising firm hand-hold and easy extraction, but 
has a disappointing way of almost always breaking 
short off at the collar. But of all the garden weeds 
that are native plants 1 know none so persistent or 
so insidious as the Rampion Bell-flower (Campanula 
Itapu7iculv£) ; it grows from the smallest thread of root» 
and it is almost impossible to see every little bit ; for 
though the main roots are thick, and white, and fleshy^ 
the fine side roots that run far abroad are very small^ 



and of a reddish colour, and easily hidden in the browni 

But some of the worst garden-weeds are exotics 
run wild. The common Grape Hyaciath sometimes 
overruns a garden and cannot be got rid of. Sambucus 
ehvlis is a plant to beware of, its long thong-Uke roots 
spreading far and wide, and coming up again far away 
from the parent stock. For this reason it is valuable 
for planting in such places as newly-made pond-heads, 
helping to tie the bank together. Polygonum SUboldi 
must also be planted with caution. The winter Helio- 
trope (Petasites fragrans) is almost impossible to get 
out when once it has taken hold, growing in the same 
ivay as its near relative the native Coltsfoot. 

But by far the most difficult plant to abolish or 
•even keep in check that I know is Ornithogalum nutans. 
Beautiful as it is, and valuable as a cut flower, I will 
not have it in the garden. I think I may venture to 
say that in this soil, when once established, it cannot 
1)0 eradicated. Each mature bulb makes a host of 
offsets, and the seed quickly ripens. When it is once 
in a garden it will suddenly appear in all sorts of 
different places. It is no use trying to dig it out I 
have dug out the whole space of soil containing the 
patch, a barrow-load at a time, and sent it to the middle 
of the bum-heap, and put in fresh soil, and there it is 
again next year, nearly as thick as ever. I have dug 
up individual small patches with the greatest care, 
and got out every bulb and offset, and every bit of the 


whitish leaf stem, for I have such faith in its power of 
reproduction that I think every atom of this is capable 
of making a plant, only to find next year a thriving 
young tuft of the ''grass" in the same place. And 
yet the bulb and underground stem are white, and the 
earth is brown, and I passed it all several times 
through my fingers, but all in vain. I confess that 
it beats me entirely. 

OoromUa varia is a little plant that appears in 
catalogues among desirable Alpines, but is a very 
** rooty" and troublesome thing, and scarcely good 
enough for garden use, though pretty in a grassy bank 
where its rambling ways would not be objectionable. 
I once brought home from Brittany some roots of 
Linaria repens, that looked charming by a roadside, and 
planted them in a bit of Alpine garden, a planting that 
I never afterwards ceased to regret. 

I learnt from an old farmer a good way of getting 
rid of a bed of nettles — to thrash them down with 
a stick every time they grow up. If this is done 
about three times during the year, the root becomes so 
much weakened that it is easily forked out, or if the 
treatment is gone on with, the second year the nettles 
die. Thrashing with a stick is better than cutting, as 
it makes the plant bleed more; any mutilation of 
bruise or ragged tearing of fibre is more .harmful to 
plant or tree than clean cutting. 

Of bird, beast, and insect pests we have plenty. 
First, and worst, are rabbits. They will gnaw and 


nibble anything and everything that is newly planted, 
even native things like Juniper, Scotch Fir, and Gorse. 
The necessity of wiring everything newly planted adds 
greatly to the labour and expense of the garden, and 
the unsightly grey wire-netting is an unpleasant eye- 
sore. When plants or bushes are well established the 
rabbits leave them alone, though some families of 
plants are always irresistible — Pinks and Carnations, for 
instance, and nearly all Cruciferae, such as Wallflowers, 
Stocks, and Iberis. The only plants I know that they 
do not touch are Rhododendrons and Azaleas; they 
leave them for the hare, that is sure to get in every 
now and then, and who stands up on his long hind- 
legs, and will eat Rose-bushes quite high up. 

Plants eaten by a hare look as if they had been cut 
with a sharp knife ; there is no appearance of gnawing 
or nibbling, no ragged edges of wood or frayed bark, 
but just a straight clean cut. 

Field mice are very troublesome. Some years 
they will nibble off the flower-buds of the Lent Helle- 
bores ; when they do this they have a curious way of 
collecting them and laying them in heaps. I have no 
idea why they do this, as they neither carry them 
away nor eat them afterwards; there the heaps 
of buds lie till they rot or dry up. They once stole 
all my Auricula seed in the same way. I had marked 
some good plants for seed, cutting off all the other 
flowers as soon as they went out of bloom. The seed 
was ripening, and I watched it daily, awaiting the 


moment for harvesting. But a few days before it was 
ready I went romid and found the seed was all gone ; 
it had been cut off at the top of the stalk, so that the 
umbel- shaped heads had been taken away whole. I 
lopked about, and luckily found three slightly hollow 
places under the bank at the back of the border where 
the seed-heads had been piled in heaps. In this case it 
looked as if it had been stored for food ; luckily it was 
near enough to ripeness for me to save my crop. 

The mice are also troublesome with newly-sown 
Peas, eating some underground, while sparrows nibble 
off others when just sprouted ; and when outdoor Grapes 
are ripening mice run up the walls and eat them. 
Even when the Grapes are tied in oiled canvas bags 
they will eat through the bags to get at them, though I 
have never known them to gnaw through the news- 
paper bags that I now use in preference, and that 
ripen the Grapes as well. I am not sure whether it is 
mice or birds that pick off the flowers of the big bunch 
Primroses, but am inclined to think it is mice, because 
the stalks are cut low down. 

Pheasants are very bad gardeners ; what they seem 
to enjoy most are Crocuses — in fact, it is no use planting 
them. I had once a nice collection of Crocus species. 
They were in separate patches, all along the edge of one 
border, in a sheltered part of the garden, where phea- 
sants did not often come. One day when I came to 
see my Crocuses, I found where each patch had been a 
basin-shaped excavation and a few fragments of stalk 


or some paxt of the plant. They had begun at one 
end and worked steadily along, clearing them right out. 
They also destroyed a long bed of Anemone fulgens. 
First they took the flowers, and then the leaves, and 
lastly pecked up and ate the roots. 

But we have one grand consolation in having no 
slugs, at least hardly any that are truly indigenous ; 
they do not like our dry, sandy heaths. Friends are 
very generous in sending them with plants, so that we 
have a moderate number that hang about frames and 
pot plants, though nothing much to boast of; but they 
never trouble seedlings in the open groimd, and for 
this I can never be too thankful. 

Alas that the beautiful bullfinch should be so dire 
an enemy to fruit-trees, and also the pretty little tits ! 
but so it is ; and it is a sad sight to see a well-grown 
fruit-tree with all its fruit-buds pecked out and lying 
under it on the ground in a thin green carpet. We 
had some fine young cherry-trees in a small orchard 
that we cut down in despair after they had been growing 
twelve years. They were too large to net, and their 
space could not be spared just for the mischievous fun 
of the birds. 



It is curious to look back at the old days of bedding- 
out, when that and that only meant gardening to most 
people, and to remember how the fashion, beginning 
in the larger gardens, made its way like a great inundat- 
ing waye, submerging the lesser ones, and almost drown- 
ing out the beauties of the many little flowery cottage 
plots of our English waysides. And one wonders 
how it all came about, and why the bedding system^ 
admirable for its own purpose, should haye thus out- 
stepped its bounds, and haye been allowed to run riot 
among gardens great and small throughout the land. 
But so it was, and for many years the fashion, for it 
was scarcely anything better, reigned supreme. 

It was well for all real loyers of flowers when some 
quarter of a century ago a strong champion of the 
good old flowers arose, and fought strenuously to stay 
the deyastating tide, and to restore the healthy liking 
for the good old garden flowers. Many soon followed, 
and now one may say that all England has flocked to 
the standard. Bedding as an all-preyailing fashion is 
now dead ; the old garden-flowers are again honoured 



and loved, and every encouragement is freely offered 
to those who will improve old kinds and bring forward 

And now that bedding as a fashion no longer exists, 
one can look at it more quietly and fairly, and see 
what its uses really are, for in its own place and way 
it is undoubtedly useful and desirable. Many great 
country-houses are only inhabited in winter, then per- 
haps for a week or two at Easter, and in the late 
summer. There is probably a house-party at Easter, 
and a succession of visitors in the late summer. A 
brilliant garden, visible from the house, dressed for 
spring and dressed for early autumn, is exactly what 
is wanted — not necessarily from any special love of 
flowers, but as a kind of bright and well-kept furnish- 
ing of the immediate environment of the house. The 
gardener delights in it; it is all routine work; so 
many hundreds or thousands of scarlet Geranium, of 
yellow Calceolaria, of blue Lobelia, of golden Feverfew, 
or of other coloured material. It wants no imagina- 
tion ; the comprehension of it is within the range of 
the most limited understanding ; indeed its prevalence 
for some twenty years or more must have had a 
deteriorating influence on the whole class of private 
gardeners, presenting to them an ideal so easy of 
attainment and so cheap of mental effort. 

But bedding, though it is gardening of the least 
poetical or imaginative kind, can be done badly or 
beautifully. In the parterre of the formal garden it 


is absolutely in place, and brilliantly-beautiful pictures 
can be made by a wise choice of colouring. I once 
saw, and can never forget, a bedded garden that was 
a perfectly satisfying example of colour-harmony ; but 
then it was planned by the master, a man of the most 
refined taste, and not by the gardener. It was a 
parteiire that formed part of the garden in one of the 
fine old places in the Midland counties. I have no 
distinct recollection of the design, except that there 
was some principle of fan-shaped radiation, of which 
each extreme angle formed one centre. The whole 
garden was treated in one harmonious colouring of 
full yeUow, orange, and orange-brown, half-hardy an- 
nuals, such as French and African Marigolds, Zinnias, 
and Nastiurtiums, being freely used. It was the most 
noble treatment of one limited range of colouring I 
have ever seen in a garden; brilliant without being 
garish, and sumptuously gorgeous without the reproach 
of gaudiness — a precious lesson in temperance and 
restraint in the \ise of the one colour, and an admirable 
exposition of its powerful effect in the hands of a true 

I think that in many smaller gardens a certain 
amount of bedding may be actually desirable; for 
where the owner of a garden has a special liking for 
certain classes or mixtures of plants, or wishes to grow 
them thoroughly well and enjoy them individually to 
the full, he will naturally grow them in separate beds, 
or may intentionally combine the beds, if he will, into 


some form of good garden effect. But the great fault 
of the bedding system when at its height was, that it 
swept oyer the coimtry as a tyrannical fashion, that 
demanded, and for the time being succeeded in effect- 
ing, the exclusion of better and more thoughtful kinds 
of gardening ; for I believe I am right in saying that 
it spread like an epidemic disease, and raged far and 
wide for nearly a quarter of a century. 

Its worst form of all was the " ribbon border," 
generally a line of scarlet Greranium at the back, then 
a line of Calceolaria, then a line of blue Lobelia, and 
lastly, a line of the inevitable Grolden Feather Fever- 
few, or what our gardener used to call Featherfew. 
Could anything be more tedious or more stupid ? And 
the ribbon border was at its worst when its lines 
were not straight, but waved about in weak and silly 

And when bedding as a fashion was dead, when 
this false god had been toppled off his pedestal, and 
his worshippers had been converted to better beliefs, 
in turning and rending him they often went too far, 
and did injustice to the innocent by professing a dis- 
like to many a good plant, and renouncing its use. It 
was not the fault of the Geranium or of the Calceolaria 
that they had been grievously misused and made to 
Tisurp too large a share of our garden spaces. Not 
once but many a time my visitors have expressed 
unbounded surprise when they saw these plants in my 
garden, sajring, "I should have thought that you 


would have despised Greraniums." On the contrary, I 
love Greraniums. There are no plants to come near 
them for pot, or box, or stone basket, or for massing in 
any sheltered place in hottest sunshine; and I love 
their strangely - pleasant smell, and their beautiful 
modem colourings of soft scarlet and salmon-scarlet 
and salmon-pink, some of these grouping beautifully 
together. I have a space in connection with some 
formal stonework of steps, and tank, and paved walks, 
close to the house, on purpose for the sununer placing 
of large pots of Gteranium, with sometimes a few 
Cannas and Lilies. For a quarter of the year it is 
one of the best things in the garden, and delightful in 
colour. Then no plant does so well or looks so suitable 
in some earthen pots and boxes from Southern Italy 
that I always think the best that were ever made, 
their shape and well-designed ornament traditional 
from the Middle Ages, and probably from an even 
more remote antiquity. 

There are, uf course, among bedding Greraniums 
many of a bad, raw quality of colour, particularly 
among cold, hard pinks, but there are so many to 
choose from that these can easily be avoided. 

I remember some years ago, when the bedding 
fashion was going out, reading some rather heated dis- 
cussions in the gardening papers about methods of 
planting out and arranging various tender but indis- 
pensable plants. Some one who had been writing 
about the errorr )f the bedding system wrote about 


planting some of these in isolated masses. He was 
pounced upon by another, who asked, "What is this 
but bedding ? " The second writer was so far justified, 
in that it cannot be denied that any planting in beds 
is bedding. But then there is bedding and bedding — 
a right and 'a wrong way of applying the treatment. 
Another matter that roused the combative spirit of 
the captious critic was the filling up of bare spaces 
in mixed borders with Geraniums, Calceolarias, and 
other such plant. Again he said, " What is this but 
bedding? These are bedding plants." When I read 
this it seemed to me that his argument was, These 
plants may be very good plants in themselves, but 
because they have for some years been used wrongly, 
therefore they must not now be used rightly ! In the 
case of my own visitors, when they have expressed 
surprise at my having " those horrid old bedding 
plaate" in my garden, it seemed quite a new Tiew 
when I pointed out that bedding plants were only pas- 
sive agents in their own misuse, and that a Greranium 
was a Geranium long before it was a bedding plant! 
But the discussion raised in my mind a wish to come 
to some conclusion about the diiSerence between bed- 
ding in the better and worse sense, in relation V> tl^d 
cases quoted, and it appeared to me to be merely in 
the choice between right and wrong placing — placing 
monotonously or stupidly, so as merely to fill the space, 
or placing with a feeling for " drawing " or proportion. 
For I had very soon found out that, if I had a number 

D Tank-gardbn for Lilies, Canhas, , 

Hydrangeas in Tubs, in a part of the same Garden. 


of things to plant anywhere, whether only to fill up 
a border or as a detached group, if I placed the 
things myself, carefully exercising what power of dis- 
crimination I might have acquired, it looked fairly 
right, but that if I left it to one of my garden people 
(a thing I rarely do) it looked all nohow, or like bed- 
ding in the worst sense of the word. 

Even the better ways of gardening do not wholly 
escape the debasing influence of fashion. Wild garden- 
ing is a delightful, and in good hands a most desirable, 
pursuit, but no kind of gardening is so difficult to do 
well, or is so full of pitfalls and of paths of peril. 
Because it has in some measure become fashionable, 
and because it is understood to mean the planting of 
exotics in wild places, unthinking people rush to the 
conclusion that they can put any garden plants into any 
wild places, and that that is wild gardening. I have seen 
woody places that were already perfect with their own 
simple charm just muddled and spoilt by a reckless 
planting of garden refuse, and heathy hillsides already 
sufficiently and beautifully clothed with native vegeta- 
tion made to look lamentably silly by the planting of 
a nurseryman's mixed lot of exotic Conifers. 

In my owd case, I have always devoted the 
most careful consideration to any bit of wild gar- 
dening I thought of doing, never allowing myself 
to decide upon it till I felt thoroughly assured that 
the place seemed to ask for the planting in contem- 
plation, and that it would be distinctly a gain in 


pictorial value ; so there are stretches of Daffodils 
in one part of the copse, while another is carpeted 
with Lily of the Valley. A cool bank is covered with 
Gaultheria, and just where I thought they would look 
well as little jewels of beauty, are spreading patches of 
Trillium and the great yellow Dog-tooth Violet. Be- 
sides these there are only some groups of the Giant 
Lily. Many other exotic plants could have been made 
to grow in the wooded ground, but they did not seem 
to be wanted ; I thought where the copse looked well 
and complete in itself it was better left alone. 

But where the wood joins the garden some bold 
groups of flowering plants are allowed, as of Mullein 
in one part aad Foxglove in another ; for when stand- 
ing in the free part of the garden, it is pleasant to 
project the sight far into the wood, and to let the 
garden influences penetrate here and there, the better 
to join the one to the other. 

i s 

S s i 

Vi I 




Now that the owners of good places are for the most 
part taking a newly-awakened and newly-edu ted 
pleasure in the better ways of gardening, a frequent 
source of difficulty arises from the ignorance and ob- 
structiveness of gardeners. The owners have become 
aware that their gardens may be sources of the keenest 
pleasure. The gardener may be an excellent man, per- 
fectly understanding the ordinary routine of garden 
work ; he may have been many years in his place ; it is 
his settled home, and he is getting well on into middle 
life ; but he has no understanding of the new order of 
things, and when the master, perfectly understanding 
what he is about, desires that certain things shall be 
done, and wishes to enjoy the pleasure of directing the 
work himself, and seeing it grow under his hand, he 
resents it as an interference, and becomes obstructive, 
or does what is required in a spirit of such sullen 
acquiescence that it is equal to open opposition. And 
I have seen so many gardens and gardeners that I 
have come to recognise certain types; and this one, 
among men of a certain age, is unfortunately firequent. 



Various degrees of ignorance and narrow-mindedness 
must no doubt be expected among the class that pro- 
duces private gardeners. Their general education is 
not very wide to begin with, and their training is 
usually all in one groove, and the many who possess a 
full share of vanity get to think that, because they 
have exhausted the obvious sources of experience that 
have occurred within their reach, there is nothing 
more to learn, or to know, or to see, or to feel, or to 
enjoy. It is in this that the difficulty lies. The man 
has no doubt done his best through life; he has per- 
formed his duties well and faithfully, and can render a 
good account of his stewardship. It is no fault of his 
that more means of enlarging his mind have not been 
within his grasp, and, to a certain degree, he may be 
excused for not understanding that there is anything 
beyond; but if he is naturally vain and stubborn his 
case is hopeless. If, on the other hand, he is wise 
enough to know that he does not know everything, ^^ 
and modest enough to acknowledge it, as do all the 
greatest and most learned of men, he will then be 
eager to receive new and enlarged impressions, and his 
willing and intelligent co-operation will be a new soiu*c6 
of interest in life both to himself and his employer, as 
well as a fresh spring of vitality in the life of the 
garden. I am speaking of the large middle class of 
private gardeners, not of those of the highest rank, 
who have among them men of good education and a 
large measure of refinement. From among these I 


think of the late Mr. Ingram of the Belvoir Castle 
gardens with regret, as for a personal Mend, and also 
as of one who was a true garden artist. 

But most people who have fair-sized gardens have 
to do with the middle class of gardener, the man of 
narrow mental training. The master who, after a good 
many years of active life, is looking forward to settling 
in his home and improving and enjoying his garden, 
has had so different a training, a course of teaching so 
immeasmrably wider and more enlightening. As a boy 
he was in a great public school, where, by wholesome 
friction with his fellows, he had any petty or personal 
nonsense knocked out of him while still in his early 
"teens." Then he goes to college, and whether stu- 
diously inclined or not, he is already in the great 
world, always widening his ideas and experience. Then 
perhaps he is in one of the active professions, or 
engaged in scientific or intellectual research, or in 
diplomacy, his ever-expanding intelligence rubbing up 
against all that is most enlightened and astute in men, 
or most profoimdly inexplicable in matter. He may 
be at the same time cultivating his taste for literature 
and the fine arts, searching the libraries and galleries 
of the civilised world for the noblest and most divinely- 
inspired examples of human work, seeing with an 
eye that daily grows more keenly searching, and re- 
ceiving and holding with a brain that ever gains a 
firmer grasp, and so acquires some measure of the 

higher critical faculty. He sees the ruined gardens of 



antiquity, colossal works of the rulers of Imperial Borne, 
and the later gardens of the Middle Ages (direct de- 
scendants of those greater and older ones), some of them 
still among the most beautiful gardens on earth. He 
sees how the taste for gardening grew and travelled, 
spreading through Europe and reaching England, first, 
no doubt, through her Roman invaders. He becomes 
more and more aware of what great and enduring happi- 
ness may be enjoyed in a garden, and how all that he 
can learn of it in the leisure intervals of his earlier 
maturity, and then in middle life, will help to brighten 
his later days, when he hopes to refine and make better 
the garden of the old home by a reverent application 
of what he has learnt. He thinks of the desecrated old 
bowling-green, cut up to suit the fashion of thirty years 
ago into a patchwork of incoherent star and crescent 
shaped beds ; of how he will give it back its ancient char- 
acter of unbroken repose ; he thinks how he will restore 
the string of fish-ponds in the bottom of the wooded valley 
just below, now a rushy meadow with swampy hollows 
that once were ponds, and humpy moimds, ruins of the 
ancient dikes ; of how the trees will stand reflected in 
the still water ; and how he will live to see again in 
middle hours of smnmer days, as did the monks of 
old, the broad backs of the golden carp basking just 
below the surface of the sun- warmed water. 

And such a man as this comes home some day and 
finds the narrow-minded gardener, who believes that he 
already knows all that can be known about gardening, 


who thinks that the merely technical part, which 
he perfectly understands, is all that there is to be 
known and practised, and that his crude ideas about 
arrangement of flowers are as good as those of any 
one else. And a man of this temperament cannot be 
induced to believe, and still less can he be made to 
imderstand, that all that he knows is only the means 
to a further and higher end, and that what he can 
show of a completed garden can only reach to an 
average dead-level of dulness compared with what may 
come of the life-giving influence of one who has the 
mastery of the higher garden knowledge. 

Moreover, he either forgets, or does not know, what 
is the main purpose of a garden, namely, that it is to give 
its owner the best and highest kind of earthly pleasure. 
Neither is he enlightened enough to understand that 
the master can take a real and intelligent interest in 
plarming and arraBging, and in watching the working 
out in detail. His small-minded vanity can only see 
in all this a distrust in his own powers and an inten- 
tional slight in his own ability, whereas no such idea 
had ever entered the master's mind. 

Though there are many of this kind of gardener 
(and with their employers, if they have the patience to 
retain them in their service, I sincerely condole), there 
are happily many of a widely-different nature, whose 
minds are both supple and elastic and intelligently 
receptive, who are eager to learn and to try what has 
not yet come within the range of their experience. 


who show a cheerful readiness to receive a fresh rang^ 
of ideas, and a wiUing alacrity in doing their best to 
work them out. Such a servant as this warms his 
master's heart, and it would do him good to hear, as I 
have many times heard, the terms in which the master 
speaks of him. For just as the educated man feels 
contempt for the vulgar pretension that goes with any ex- 
hibition of ignorant vanity, so the evidence of the higher 
qualities commands his respect and warm appreciation. 
Among the gardeners I have known, five such men 
come vividly to my recollection — ^good men all, with a 
true love of flowers, and its reflection of happiness 
written on their kindly faces. 

But then, on the other hand, frequent causes of 
irritation arise between majster and man from the 
master's ignorance and unreasonable demandjs. For 
much as the love of gardening has grown of late, 
there are many owners who have no knowledge of 
it whatever. I have more than once had visitors who 
complained of their gardeners, as I thought quite 
imreasonably, on their own showing. For it is not 
enough to secure the services of a thoroughly able 
man, and to pay good wages, and to provide every sort 
of appliance, if there is no reasonable knowledge of 
what it is right and just to expect. I have known a 
lady, after paying a roimd of visits in great houses, 
complain of her gardener. She had seen at one place 
remarkably fine forced strawberries, at another some 
phenomenal frame Violets, and at a third immense 


Malmaison Carnations; whereas her own gardener did 

not excel in any of these, though she admitted that he 

was admirable for Grapes and Chiysanthemimis. " K the 

others could do all these things to perfection/' she argued, 

"why could not he do them?" She expected her 

gardener to do equally well all that she had seen best 

done in the other big places. It was in vain that I 

pleaded in defence of her man that all gardeners were 

human creatures, and that it was in the nature of 

such creatures to have individual aptitudes and special 

preferences, and that it was to be expected that each 

man should excel in one thing, or one thing at a time, 

and so on ; but it was of no use, and she would not 

accept any excuse or explanation. 

I remember another example of a visitor who had 
a rather large place, and a gardener who had as good 
a knowledge of hardy plants as one could expect. My 
visitor had lately got the idea that he liked hardy 
flowers, though he had scarcely thrown off the influ- 
ence of some earlier heresy which taught that they 
were more or less contemptible — the sort of thing for 
cottage gardens ; still, as they were now in fashion, he 
thought he had better have them. We were passing 
along my flower-border, just then in one of its best 
moods of summer beauty, and when its main occupants, 
three years planted, had come to their full strength, 
when, speaking of a large flower-border he had lately 
had made, he said, '' I told my fellow last autumn to 
get anything he liked, and yet it is perfectly wretched. 


It is not as if I wanted anything out of the way ; I 
only want a lot of common things like that/' waving a 
hand airily at my precious border, while scarcely taking 
the trouble to look at it. 

And I have had another visitor of about the same 
degree of appreciative insight, who, contemplating some 
cherished garden picture, the consummation of some 
long-hoped-for wish, the crowning joy of years of 
labour, said, " Now look at that ; it is just right, and 
yet it is quite simple — there is absolutely nothing in 
it ; now, why can't my man give me that ? " 

I am far from wishing to disparage or undervalue 
the services of the honest gardener, but I think that 
on this point there ought to be the clearest under- 
standing; that the master must not expect from the 
gardener accomplishments that he has no means of 
acquiring, and that the gardener must not assume 
that his knowledge covers all that can come within 
the scope of the widest and best practice of his craft. 
There are branches of education entirely out of his 
reach that can be brought to bear upon garden plan- 
ning and arrangement down to the very least detail. 
"What the educated employer who has studied the 
higher forms of gardening can do or criticise, he cannot 
be expected to do or understand ; it is in itself almost 
the work of a lifetime, and only attainable, like success 
in any other fine art, by persons of, firstly, special 
temperament and aptitude; and, secondly, by their 
unwearied study and closest application. 


But the result of knowledge so gained shows itself 
throughout the garden. It may be in so simple a 
thing as the placing of a group of plants. They can 
be so placed by the hand that knows, that the group 
is in perfect drawing in relation to what is near ; while 
by the ordinary gardener they would be so planted 
that they look absurd, or immeaning, or in some way 
awkward and imsightly. It is not enough to cultivate 
plants well ; they must also be used well. The servant 
may set up the canvas and grind the colours, and even 
set the palette, but the master alone can paint the 
picture. It is just the careful and thoughtful exercise 
of the higher qualities that makes a garden interesting, 
and their absence that leaves it blank, and dull, and 
lifeless. I am heartily in sympathy with the feeling 
described in these words in a friend's letter, '' I think 
there are few things so interesting as to see in what 
way a person, whose perceptions you think. fine and 
worthy of study. wuVgive them expression in a 


Adonis yemalis, 62 

Alcohol, its grayestone, 12 

Alexandrian laurel, 16 

Al8tr5merias, best kinds, how to 
plant, 92 

Amelanchier, 52, 182 

Ampelopsis, 43 

Andromeda Catesbei, 37; A. 
floribunda and A. japonica, 50; 
autumn colouring, 128, 165 

Anemone fulgens, 57 ; japonica, 
109, 207 

Aponogeton, 194 

Apple, WeUington, 12; apple- 
trees, beauty of form, 25 

Aristolochia Sipho, 43 

Amebia echioides, 56 

Aromatic plants, 235 

Artemisia Stelleriana, 104 

Arum, wild, leaves with cut daf- 
fodils, 58 

Auriculas, 54; seed stolen by 
mice, 260 

Autumn-sown annuals, 113 

Azaleas, arrangement for colour, 
69; A. occidentalis, 70; au- 
tumn colouring, 128 ; as trained 
for shows, 246 

Bambusa Ragamowski, 102 
Beauty of woodlandin win ter,7, 1 53 
Beauty the first aim in garden- 
ing, 2, 196, 244, 248, 253, 254 

Bedding-out as a fashion, 263 
and onward; bedding rightly 
used, 265 

Berberis for winter decocatuni, 
16 ; its many merits, 21 

Bignonia radicans, laige-flowered 
variety, 110 

Birch, its graceful growth, 8; 
colour of bark, 9 ; fragrance in 
April, 61 ; grouped with holly, 

Bird-cherry, 182 

Bitton, Canon EUacombe's gar- 
den at, 206 

Blue-eyed Mary, 44 

Books on gardening, 192 and on- 

Border plants, their young growth 
in April, 51 

Bracken, 87; cut into layering- 
pegs, 98 ; careful cutting, 99 ; 
when at its beet to cut, 106; 
autumn colouring, 127 

Bramble, colour of leaves in 
winter, 20; iu forest groups, 
44 ; in orchard, 181 ; American 
kinds, 182 

Briar roses, 80, 104 

Bryony, the two wild kinds, 43 

Bulbous plants, early blooming, 
how best to plant, 49 

Bullfinch, a garden enemy, 262 

Butcher's broom, 151 




Cactus, hardy, on rock-wall, 119 
Caltha palnstria, 62 
Campanula rapnnculiis, 257 
Cardamine trif oliata, 60 
CarnationB, 94 ; at shows, 243 
Caryopteris mastacanthns, 102 
Ceanothus, Gloire de Versailles, 

Cheiranthos, alpine kinds, 62 
Chimonanthns fragrans, 229 
Chionodoza sardensis and C. 

Choisya ternata, 63, 71, 206 
Christmas rose, giant kind, 144 
Chrysanthemnms, hardy kinds, 

144 ; as trained at shows, 245 
Cistns laurifolius, 37 ; C. floren- 
tinns, 101 ; G. ladanif ems, 102, 
Claret vine, 110 

Clematis cirrhosa, 14; G. flammula 
when to train, 24; wild clem- 
atis in trees and hedges, 43; 
C. montana, 71, 203 ; G. Davi- 
diana, 95, 205 
Clergymen as gardeners, 175 
derodendron foBtidum, 110, 206 
Climbing plants, 202 ; for pergola, 

Colonr, of woodland in winter, 
19; of leayes of some garden 
plants, 21 ; colour-grouping of 
rhododendrons, 66; of azaleas, 
69; colour of foliage of tree 
pffionies, 73; colour arrange- 
ment in the flower-border, 89, 
109, 207 ; colour of bracken in 
October, 127 ; of azaleas and 
andromedas in autumn, 128; 
of bark of holly, 152; study 
of, 197; of flowers, how de- 
scribed, 221 and onward 
Copse-cutting, 166 
Corehorus japonicus, 50 
Goronilla varia, 259 

Corydalis capnoides, 50 

Cottage gardens, 4, 185; roses 
in, 79 

Cottager's way of protecting ten- 
der plants, 91 

Cowslips, 59 

Crinums, 206 

Crinums, hybrid, 110^ 119; pro- 
tecting, 146 

Crocuses, eaten by pheasants, 261 

Daffodils in the oopsci 34; 

planted in old pack-horse 

tracks, 48 
Dahlias, staking, 114; digging 

upt 133 
Delphiniums, 89; grown from 

seed, 90 ; D. Belladonna, 91 
Dentaria pinnata, 46 
Deutzia parviflora, 103 
Digging up plants, 139 
Discussions about treatment of 

certain plants, 3 
Dividing tough - rooted plants, 

53 ; spring-blooming plants, 

85; how often, 136; suitable 

tools, 136 and onward 
Dog-tooth violets, 38, 47 
Doronicum, 53 
Dressing of show flowers, 243 
Dried flowers, 17 
Dwarfing annuals, 249 

Edwardsia grandiflora, 206 
Elder trees, 83 ; elder- wine, 84 
EpUobium angustifolium, white 

variety, 86 
Epimedium pinnatum, 16, 46 
Erinus alpinus, sown in rock- 
wall, 121 
Eryngium giganteum, 93; E. 
maritimum, 93; E. Olivier- 
anum, 93, 209. 
Eulalia japonica, flowers dried* 



Eyergreen branches for winter 

decoration, 16 
Everlasting pea, dividing and 

propagating, 138 
Experimental planting, 183 

Felling trees, 162 

Fern Filix foemina in rhododen- 
dron beds, 37, 106; Dicksonia 
pnnctilobiilata, 62; ferns in 
rock- wall, 120 ; polypody, 121, 

Fern-pegs for layering carnations, 

Fern-walk, suitable plants among 
groups of ferns, 107 

Flower border, 133, 200 

Forms of deciduous trees, beauty 
of, 25 

Forsythia suspensa and F. viri- 
dissima, 60 

Forget-me-not, large kind, 53 

Foxgloves, 270 

Ii^ingi, Amanita, Boletus, Chan- 
tarelle. 111 

Funkia grandiflora, 212. 

Galax aphylla, colour of leaves 

in winter, 21 
Gale, broad-leaved, 101 
Garden friends, 194 
Garden houses, 215 
Gardening, a fine art, 197 
Garrya eUiptica, 202 
Gaultheria Shallon, value for 

cutting, 16; in rock-garden, 

Geraniums as bedding plants, 

266 and onward 
Gourds, as used by Mrs. Earle, 

Goutweed, 257 
Grape hyacinths, 49, 258 
Grass, Sheep's-fescue, 69 
Grasses for lawn, 147 

Grey-foli&ged plants, 207 

Grouping plants that bloom to- 
gether, 70 

Grubbing, 160 ; tools, 150, 261 

Guelder-rose as a wall-plant, 71 ; 
single kind, 129 

Gypsophila paniciilata, 95, 209 

Half-hardy border plants in 

August, 108, 210 
Happiness in gardening, 1, 274 
Hares, as depredators, 260 
Heath sods for protecting tender 

plants, 91 
Heaths, filling up Rhododendron 

beds, 37; wild heath among 

azaleas, 69 ; cut short in paths, 

70 ; ling, 106 
Hellebores, caulescent kinds in 

the nut- walk, 9; for cutting, 

57, 144; buds stolen by mice, 

Heuchera Richardsoni, 53, 135 
Holly, beauty in winter, 8; 

grouped with birch, 152; 

cheerful aspect, 154 
Hollyhocks, the prettiest shape, 

105 ; 
Honey-suckle, wild, 43 
Hoof-parings as manure, 133 
Hoop-making, 166, and onward 
Hop, wild, 43 
Hutchinsia alpina, 50 
Hyacinth (wild) in oak-wood, 

Hydrangeas, protecting, 146 ; at 

foot of wall, 206 
Hyssop, a good wall-plant, 121 

Iris alata, 14 ; I. foetidissima, 120 

I. palUda, 129 
Iris stylosa, how to plant, 13; 

white variety, 14 ; time of 

blooming, 33, 164. 
Ivy, shoots for cutting, 17 



Japan Privet, foliage for winter 
decoration, 16 

Japan Qaince (Gydonia or Pyrus), 

Jasminnm nudiflorum, 164 

Junction of garden and wood, 34, 

Juniper, its merits, 26 ; its form, 
action of snow, 27; power of 
recovery from damage, 29; 
beauty of colouring, 30 ; stems 
in winter dress, 31 ; in a wild 
vaUey^ 154, and onward 

KiTCHEK-GARDEN, 179 ; its sheds, 
179, 180 

Labch, sweetness in April, 51 

Large gardens, 176 

Lavender, when to cut, 105 

Lawn-making, 146 ; lawn spaces, 
177, 178 

Leaf mould, 149 

Learning, 5, 189, 190, 273 

Lessons of tiie garden, 6 ; in wild- 
tree planting, 154; in orchard 
planting, 183 ; of the show* 
table, 241 

Lencojum vemnm, 33 

Leycesteria formosa, 100 

Lilacs, suckers, as strong feeders, 
good kinds, 23 ; standards best, 

Lilium auratum among rhodo- 
dendrons, 37, 106 ; among bam- 
boos, 106 

Lilium giganteum, 95; cultiva- 
tion needed in poor soil, 142 

Lilium Harrisi and L. speciosum, 

Lily of the valley in the copse, 61 

Linaria repens, 259 

London Pride in the rock- wall, 120 

Loquat, 204 


Love of gardening, 1 
Luzula sylvatica, 61 

Magnolia, branches indoors in 
winter, 16 ; magnolia stellata, 
50 ; kinds in the choice shrub- 
bank, 101 

Mai-trank, 60 

Marking trees for cutting, 151 

Marsh marigold, 52 

Masters and men, 271 

Mastic, 102 

Meconopsis Wallichi, 165 

Medlar, 129 

Megaseas, colour of foliage, 17; 
M. ligulata, 103 ; in front edge 
of flower-border, 211 

Mertensia virginica, 46; sowing 
the seed, 84 

Mice, 260, 261 

Michaelmas daisies, a garden to 
themselves, 125; planting and 
staking, 126; early kinds in 
mixed border, 135 

Mixed planting, 183 ; mixed bor- 
der, 206 

Morells, 59 

Mulleins (V. olympicum and 
y. phlomoides), 85; mnlleiu- 
moth, 86, 270 

Muscari of kinds, 49 

Musical reverberation in wood of 
Scotcli fir, 60 

MyosotiB sylvatica major, 53 

Nandina domestica, 206 

Narcissus cemuus, 12; N. sero- 
tinus, 14 ; N. princeps and N. 
Horefieldi in the copse 

Nature's planting, 154 

Nettles, to destroy, "59 

Novelty, 249 

Nut nursery at Calcot, 11 

Nut- walk, 9 ; catkins, Cll ; suc- 
kers, 11 



Oak timber, felling, 60 
Old wall, 72, 116 and onward 
Omphalodes vema, 45 
Ophiopogon spicatum for winter 

cutting, 16 
Orchard, ornamental, 181 
Orobos vemus, 62 ; O. aorautia- 

CU8, 62 
Othonna cheirifolia, 63 

PiEONiES and Lent Hellebores 
grown together, 76 

Peeony moutan grouped with 
clematis montana, 70; special 
garden for pseonies, 72; fre- 
quent sudden deaths, 73 ; varie- 
ties of P. albiflora, 74; old 
garden kinds, 76; p»ony spe- 
cies desirable for garden use, 75 

Pansies as cut flowers, 67; at 
shows, 243 

Parkinson's chapter on carna- 
tions, 94 

Pavia macrostachya, 103 

Pea, white everlasting, 95 

Pergola, 212 

Pernettya, 165 

Pests, bird, beast, and insect, 259 

Phacelia campanularia, 63 

Pheasants, as depredators, 261 ; 
destroying crocuses, 261 

Philadelphus microphyllus, 103 

Phlomis fruticosa, 103 

Phloxes, 135 

Piptanthus nepalensis, 63, 206 

Planes pollarded, 215 

Planting early, 129; careful 
planting, 130; planting from 
pots, 131; careful tree planting, 

Platycodon Mariesi, 108 

Plume hyacinth, 49 

Polygala chamsBbuxus, 164 

Polygonum compactum, 136 ; Sie- 
boldi, 258 

" Pot-pourri from a Surrey gar- 
den," 18 
Primroses, white and lilac, 44; 
large bunch-flowered kinds as 
cut flowers, 58; seedlings 
planted out, 85 ; primrose gar* 
den, 216 
Primula denticulata, 184 
Progress in gardening, 249 
Propet-flower (Amebia), 56 
Protecting tender plants, 145 
Pterocephalus pamassi, 107 
PyrusMaulei, 50 

QUESN wasps, 63 
Quince, 128 ' 

Rabbits, 260 

Ranunculus montanus, 50 

Raphiolepis ovata, 204 

Rhododendrons, variation in foli- 
age, 35 ; R. multum maculatum, 
35; plants to fill bare spaces 
among, 37; arrangement tor 
colour, 64 and onward ; hybrid 
of R. Aucklandi, 69 ; alpine, 165 

Ribbon border, 266 


Robinia hispida, 203 

Rock garden, making and renew- 
ing, 115 

Rock-wall, 116 and onward 

Rosemary, 204 

Roses, pruning, tying, and train- 
ing; fence planted with free 
roses ; Reine Olga de Wurtem- 
burg, 38; climbing and ramb- 
ling roses, 39; Fortune's yellow, 
Banksian, 40 ; wild roses, 43 ; 
garden roses : Provence, moss, 
damask, R. alba, 78 ; roses in 
cottage gardens, ramblers and 
fountains, 79 ; fi-ee growth of 
Rosa polyantha ; two good, free 
roses for cutting, 80; Burnet 



rose and Scotch briars, Rosa 
lucida, 81 ; tea roses : best 
kinds for light soil, pegging, 
pruning, 82 ; roses collected in 
Capri, 105 ; second bloom of 
tea roses, 110; jam made of 
hips of R. rugosa. 111, 184 ; R. 
arvensis, garden form of, 129 ; 
R. Boorsault elegans, 192 ; 
China» 206 ; their scents, 235 

Rnscus acoleatos, 151 ; R. race- 
mosns, 152 

Rnta patavina, a late-flowering 
rock-plant, 107 

Sambucus ebollB, 258 
Satin-leaf (Heuchera Richard- 

soni), 53 
Scilla maritima, 14 ; S. sibirica, 

S. bif olia, 32 
Scents of flowers, 229 and onward 
Scotch fir, pollen, 53; cones 

opening, 54 ; effect of sound in 

lir-wood, 60 
Show flowers, 242 
Show -table, what it teaches, 

Shrub-bank, 101 ; snug place for 

tender shrubs, 121 
Shrub- wilderness of the old home, 

Skimmeas, 101, 165 
Slugs, 262 
Smilacina bifolia, 61 
Bnapdragon, 251 
Snowstorm of December 1886, 

Snowy Mespilus (Amelanchier), 

Solanum crispum, 204 
Solomon's seal, 61 
Spindle-tree, 127 
Spirsea Thunbergi, 60, 104; S. 

prunifolia, 104 
St. John's worts, choice, 103 

Stephanandra flexuosa, 103 

Stembergia lutea, 139 

Sticks and stakes, 163 

Storms in autumn, 122 

Styrax japouica, 101 

Suckers of nuts, 11 ; robbers, how 
to remove, 24 ; on grafted rho- 
dodendrons, 36 

Sunflowers, perennial, 134 

Sweetbriar, rambling, 39; frag- 
rance in April, 51 

Sweet-leaved small shrubs, 34, 
57, 101 

Sweet peas, autumn sown, 83, 

Thatching with hoop-chips, 169 
Thinning the nut-walk, 10 ; thin- 
ning shrubs, 22 ; trees in copse, 
Tiarella cordifolia, 53 ; colour of 

leaves in winter, 21 
Tools for dividing, 136 ; for tree 
cutting and grubbing, 150; 
woodman's, 158 ; axe and 
wedge, 159 ; rollers, 160 ; cross- 
cut saw, 162 
Training the eye, 4; training 

clematiB fiammula, 24 
Transplanting large trees, 147 
Trillium grandiflorum, 61 
Tritomas, protecting, 146 
Tulips, show kinds and their 
origin, 55 ; T. retroflexa, 55 ; 
other good garden kinds, 56 

Vabious ways of gardening, 3 

Verbascum olympicum and V. 
phlomoides, 85 

Villa garden, 171 

Vinca acutiflora, 139 

Vine, black Hamburg at Galcot, 
12 ; as a wall-plant, 42 ; good 
garden kinds, 42 ; claret vine, 
110, 205 ; VitiB Coignetti, 123 



Violets, the pale St. Helena, 45 ; 
Czar, 140 

Virginian cowslip, 46 ; its colour- 
ing, 47; sowing seed, 84 

Wall pennywort, 120 
Water-elder, a beautiful neglected 

shrub, 123 
Weeds, 256 
Wild gardening misunderstood, 

Wilson, Mr. G. F.'s garden at 

Wisley, 184 
Window garden, 185 

Winter, beauty of woodland, 7 
Wistaria chinensis, 43 
Whortleberry under Scotch fir, 61, 

Woodman at work, 158 
Woodruff, 60 
Wood-rush, 61, 165 
Wood-work, 163 

Xanthoceras Borbifolia, 103 

Yellow everlasting, 120 
Yuccas, some of the best kinds, 
91 ; in flower-border, 201 


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